


The Odds

by GLEEAnna



Category: Glee
Genre: Car Accidents, M/M, Medical Procedures, Minor Blaine Anderson/David Karofsky, Mpreg, Pregnancy, Pregnancy loss (not Blaine's pregnancy), Surrogacy, Unplanned Pregnancy, all will be dealt with in due time, minor appearances by Sebastian Smythe and Elliott "Starchild" Gilbert, past Blainofsky with appearances by Dave as appropriate to the plot, slow build to resolution but hang in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 58,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9253136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GLEEAnna/pseuds/GLEEAnna
Summary: Based on a prompt from Jaded-Idealism on Tumblr - thank you JICanon compliant with the show through the Klaine wedding, with the rather major twist that in this universe, men can become pregnant ... and Kurt learns Blaine is pregnant soon after the wedding.  A little too soon, given the circumstances.This is a story about the power of love and family, and about the consequences of secrets.





	1. Surprise

Kurt chucked his scrub brush in a yellow plastic bucket with a splash. Putting his hands behind him, he slowly stretched his back. The bathtub sparkled, with no trace of the pale blue ring left from his and Blaine’s two month anniversary bubble bath by candlelight last night. He smiled; the honeymoon most definitely was not over.

 

Technically it was Blaine’s job to clean the bathroom, but … after two brutal breakups and almost losing each other for good, they both were working hard at taking care of each other and their relationship this time. Showing each other small kindnesses. Letting Blaine sleep in this morning and wake up to a clean bathroom was an act of true romance.

He whipped open a black Hefty bag with one hand, and picked up the half-full wastepaper basket with the other. Upending the basket, he shook the jumbled contents into the bag. As he set the basket back in place, he noticed something white still caught in the bottom of the basket liner bag. Tipping the basket to look, he blinked in surprise and pulled out a slim plastic stick with dark blue printing on the handle.

“EPT FOR MEN”.

Kurt sat down with a thud.

_Nobody’s been in this apartment but us since Blaine cleaned it last week. Could it be?_

He got up, and went to stand in front of the sink. Taking a deep breath, he turned the stick right side up, tilting it toward the vanity light. Two pronounced blue lines stood out sharply in the oval results window.

_Two lines. What did two lines mean?_

Slapping the stick on the counter, Kurt snatched up the Hefty bag, strewing the contents over the freshly swept floor. Among the clutter of exfoliating wipes, floss picks, disposable razor blades and crumpled tissue paper, lay a small, rectangular cardboard box. It was the EPT FOR MEN carton.

He picked it up with two fingers and felt something rattling inside. Pausing for another deep breath, he read the instruction panel:

“Two lines means you ARE pregnant.” … _you ARE pregnant._

Kurt gasped and clutched the box to his chest. The box rattled again, and he opened it, shaking out two more EPT FOR MEN stick tests. Both used. With two unmistakable blue lines in the window of each. There could be no doubt. … _I’m going to be a father!_

He let out a thrilled, piercing screech of pure joy and triumph, then clapped a hand over his mouth, too late as he heard the shuffle of fine Italian-leather slippers nearing the outside of the bathroom door.

“You okay in there, Kurt?” Blaine’s soft, low voice called from the other side. “Honey? Is it your shaving day already? Did you cut yourself?”

 _Oh no. Blaine’ll want to tell me the news himself! Probably in some super-romantic way!_ Kurt panicked. He couldn’t let Blaine know he’d found out about their baby by rifling through a pile of trash. It would ruin a beautiful life moment. He crouched and frantically scrabbled the pile of debris back into the wastepaper basket.

“Fine!” he answered, trying to keep his voice sounding normal. “Just cleaning the bathroom. You … you know how much I love doing that.”  He shoved the basket back beside the toilet and grabbed the sponge back out of the bucket. There was a slight pause.

“No you don’t,” Blaine said, sounding suspicious. The door swung open and Blaine came in.

Kurt fumbled awkwardly with the sponge in his hands, then squeezed it out over the bucket. “Um. I already did the tub and the sink. And the toilet.” He gestured vaguely and picked up the bucket of dirty water. “I’ll get rid of this … all that’s left is the trash.”

Blaine stepped around him quickly and pulled out the liner bag, tying it off. “I’ll get a new liner,” he mumbled.

Kurt tried to catch his eye, but Blaine kept his gaze down and hurried toward the door.

Kurt couldn’t resist. He slapped Blaine’s backside as he passed by. “You do that … baby.”

Blaine stopped short, turned, and leveled a close look at Kurt. Kurt smiled and blinked back innocently. After a moment, Blaine shrugged and continued toward the kitchen.

Kurt smiled and faced back toward the mirror. He studied his own shining face. This wasn’t planned, not at all. They hadn’t even discussed children, except in an abstract, “someday” kinda way. But, now that it was really happening, he found … that he was glad. Glad? That didn’t cover it, he realized, a little surprised at his own unbridled joy. He and Blaine had nearly lost each other twice, and now the dream he’d cherished for the distant future was a present reality. They were having a baby together. He grinned at his reflection.

“Hey there, Dad,” he whispered. “Good going, big guy.”


	2. More Surprises

The apartment was quiet, with Blaine out at a late class. The perfect opportunity to work on plans for the nursery without Blaine finding out that Kurt was already in on the big surprise. Kurt spread out his new dream book, filled with pictures and swatches of material. He was leaning toward a children’s movie theme, and had sketched some ideas for a nursery mural populated with his and Blaine’s favorite classic children’s characters, from the Wizard of Oz, to Winnie the Pooh, to Star Wars, and others all frolicking together.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d found out, and Blaine hadn’t let out a peep about the baby. Kurt was almost bursting with the suspense of it. Knowing Blaine, the announcement would involve an original song and probably at least a few dozen backup singers and dancers. That kind of spectacle took time to arrange, especially since Blaine was so busy as a transfer student at a new school. But as much as he loved Blaine’s over-the-top musical approach to milestones in their life, for this one … well, for this one he really wished Blaine would tone it down and just tell him in one of their quiet, intimate moments together, alone. Then they could start sharing this special time, just the two of them, and start making plans.

A chill fell over him. What if … what if this was a sitcom-worthy mix-up going on here, and Blaine wasn’t even pregnant? After all, Blaine showed no outward signs. He was walking around briskly as ever, looking slim and fit, cooking blueberry-lemon pancakes every morning, and downing them as eagerly as always. He looked a little tired when he’d left for class, but …

Kurt pushed away the Dream book, and drummed his fingers on the table a moment. He got up, sidling over to Blaine’s work-space desk, straightening a few stray papers Blaine had left out. He slipped a finger into the handle on the drawer, pulling slightly, but it was locked.

Looking over his shoulder, as if someone would materialize and catch him in the act, he unbent a paper clip and expertly jimmied the simple lock on the drawer. Feeling supremely guilty, he slid the desk drawer open a few inches and peered inside. His heart leaped.

A bottle of male prenatal vitamins and a copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting: Men’s Edition” were stashed inside. He picked up the paperback, and an appointment card slipped out from between the pages. Hm. Blaine has an appointment Friday morning … with an obstetrician-androcologist.

_That’s a relief … he IS pregnant … but …_

Kurt frowned, more puzzled than ever. Blaine had picked an OB-AND without even discussing it together, and hadn’t said a word about this appointment. _What was Blaine waiting to tell him for?_

It hit him, finally, and he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. _Of course._ The OB-AND’s office was near their apartment, and Kurt didn’t have work or classes on Friday mornings. Very often, the two of them went out for brunch together Friday mornings, not a block away from this doctor’s office. He must be planning to get me out on a pretext, probably brunch, and then tell me. So romantic.

Then again… maybe he was reading too much into all this. Male pregnancy was getting more and more common and accepted, as strides were made in awareness of LGBT rights and equality. But even with those strides, pregnant men, their partners, and their children faced a lot of discrimination and discouragement from society. As a result, obstetrics and androcology was still a relatively new field compared to obstetrics and gynecology. Kurt had read that there was still a greater false positive rate for home pregnancy tests for men, than for women; and of course, unlike women, men had no missed periods to tell them a baby was on the way, either. So maybe Blaine wanted to get a confirmation from the doctor before springing the news, to avoid disappointment?

Kurt replaced the book carefully in the drawer and went back to his Dream Book. He rested his chin on his hand, looking over his plans again. He didn’t care if the new baby was a boy or a girl, but he did hope they grew up to look like Blaine, only … maybe a little taller. He couldn’t wait to take the baby to the park, shop for clothes and toys.

Oh, it wouldn’t be all fun and games. It would be hard work, too, a lot of it. _But Blaine and I can make it work .   I just know it._  If they could battle their way back from this god-awful last breakup, and get along better than ever, then didn’t that prove the two of them could do anything together?

He was startled from his thoughts by the sharp buzzing of the front doorbell. “Who on earth - -“ he closed up his book and slipped it into his messenger bag, fastening the strap. Wouldn’t do to leave that laying around for snoops to find.

Looking out through the peep-hole, he gasped. “Dad!”

Flinging open the door, he threw his arms around his father in a joyful bear-hug. “What are you doing in New York?” he demanded, ushering him inside.

“Wanted to see my son, of course,” Burt said, smiling … but the smile was tight and Burt’s face was pale. “Not a bad time, is it?”

“For you? Never,” Kurt said. “Let me have your coat.” He hung his father’s jacket by the door, brushing it off briskly. “Blaine’s at class, but he’ll be thrilled to see you too. Maybe you can watch the baseball match later.”

“Game,” Burt corrected him automatically. “You’re thinking of cricket.”

“Sure,” Kurt chuckled. “That’s what it was. I was thinking of cricket.”

“When’s he getting back, again?” Burt asked, fidgeting with his cuffs. “Blaine, I mean.”

“Uh … well, in a couple hours. How about a snack while you wait for your son-in-law,” he asked pointedly.

“Hm,” Burt said, shrugging. “Sure, sounds good.” He sat down at the kitchen table in the middle of the small apartment and looked down at his hands.

“Dad … I don’t mean to be paranoid or anything, but … is everything all right? I mean, the last time you showed up unannounced at my apartment, it was … it was to tell me some pretty bad news. And … you’re acting a little …” Kurt trailed off as Burt kept staring at his hands. “Dad?”

“I was hoping Blaine would be here when we did this – for moral support for you - -“

“Moral support? Why do I need moral support, Dad, what happened?”

Burt placed a hand over Kurt’s.

“The cancer came back, Kurt. And it’s spread.”

Everything went blurry and slow, like he was underwater. Like he was just waking up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night. None of this made sense. “Spread …” he said stupidly.

He shook his head. “No! The doctor said the treatment was successful! He said that, I was there!” Kurt said, his voice getting higher and higher pitched.

“Well, I guess I’m in that 1% of men who have a recurrence and metastasis, I guess. I’m sorry to have to put you through this again …”

“Don’t worry about that, Dad. Seriously – just don’t worry about me. Just tell me what’s the next step, what I can do to help you beat this again.”

Burt shook his head firmly. “Kurt. No.”

Kurt sat, dumbstruck, staring at his father. “No? I don’t – I don’t under- “

“I won’t live out the rest of this year, even with aggressive chemotherapy and radiation. So aggressive, I’ll spend all my time either having treatment or sick from it. I’ve talked it over with Carol and … I’ve decided not to have the treatment - -“

“Dad, no!” Kurt burst out. “If you take the treatment, it might work, right? You might be cured for real this time?”

Burt sighed. “The odds are against me, Kurt. I’d rather have a couple of good months than spend a year just going through that kind of treatment, getting sicker and sicker. I don’t want that to be how you and Carol remember me.”

Kurt stared at his dad. “So you’re giving up? That’s not you, Dad. It’s not. And - - “ he swallowed. “There’s something you should know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be saying anything. Not yet. But … Blaine’s … pregnant. If you don’t get the treatment, you won’t be around when your grandchild is born.” Kurt’s face crumpled. “Please, Dad. If there’s any chance, however small, for a cure, please take it. For me and Blaine and our baby.”

Burt’s mouth dropped, then curled into a small smile. “A baby?” His eyes filled with tears. “For real?”

Kurt nodded. “Blaine doesn’t know I know yet. I think he’s going to surprise me with the news on Friday … so you can’t let on you know, but - -“

“Hey. This isn’t one of your tricks, like back in high school when you set me and Carol up to get close to Finn, is it?” Burt teased, still wiping away tears.

Kurt smiled a little through his own tears. “Not a trick.”

His dad lifted his cap and ran his hands over his scalp. “That … that does change things, I guess …”

Kurt held his breath.

“I guess … I guess I can try to fight if it means a chance to see your baby. But … Kurt. You have to understand … it’s only delaying the inevitable.”

to be continued


	3. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part is adult in nature (mild descriptions but).

 

“Dad, you look exhausted. Go to bed, you need your rest.”

Burt’s drooping eyes snapped open. Yawning, he shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. I’ll wait until Blaine gets here.”

Kurt shook his head. “He’ll be here any minute. I’ll be okay till he gets here. Go ahead, you’re about to fall over on the couch.”

“If you’re sure …” Burt heaved himself up from his seat and lumbered over, dropping a kiss on the top of Kurt’s head. “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, Dad,” Kurt choked out. “G’night.”

He waited until Burt had shuffled into the spare room and the light went out under the door, before slipping out onto the fire escape and shutting the living room window behind him. He sat down on the cold metal grate and wrapped his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth. _Of course. Of course something bad had to happen. I’m not allowed to be happy. First Mom, then Finn, now Dad._ At the thought, a feeling of cold dread crept over him, a fear that this seeming curse that followed him would keep on, striking down everyone he cared about. His hands shook, and he gripped the sides of the fire escape to steady himself.

_I can’t go through this again with Dad. I can’t … but I can’t lose him. He’s supposed to be here for me, for his grandchild. He has to._

“Hey,” a soft voice startled him. He looked up to see Blaine climbing through the window, a little clumsily for graceful Blaine.

“What’s wrong? Why are you out here in the cold?”

Kurt tried to answer, but only a sob came out, and he reached out his arms like a child. Blaine gathered him up, and Kurt buried his face in Blaine’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Blaine asked, rubbing circles on his back soothingly. “Is it … is it your Dad? Did something happen to him or Carol?”

“He’s asleep in the spare room. He came to tell me … his cancer came back,” Kurt managed to whisper.

Blaine’s arms tightened around him. “Kurt, I’m so sorry … Is it … will he - - “

“It’s bad. But he’s going to fight. He wants to fight, for - - for - - “ Kurt fell silent. “For his life,” he finished dully, falling silent. He felt Blaine nod and press a kiss to his head. They sat out on the fire escape, holding on to each other, Blaine running his fingers gently through Kurt’s hair. “You know how grateful I am to have you here, don’t you?” Kurt murmured. “If … if anything happened to you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Blaine’s hand stilled, resting on the back of Kurt’s head. “Where’d that come from?”

“I’m just scared … I keep losing the people close to me. And I almost lost you twice already. I couldn’t take it if anything happened to you too, I couldn’t, Blaine.” He gave up on holding in the tears, and let them come, let them run down his cheeks and dampen Blaine’s shirt. “I need you, especially right now. I need to know you’ll keep me strong through this.”

“I promise … I’ll do everything under my power to help you. Everything,” Blaine said, his voice strangely tight and grim. “I won’t let you down.”

Kurt briefly wondered what Blaine meant by that, exactly, but the thought faded as he let Blaine keep rocking him like a child, let his eyes start to drift shut, and the light and noise from the street below started to fade away.

 

~ * ~ * ~ *~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~

Kurt woke up with a start, finding himself in bed and no memory of how he got there. He glanced around at the sleeping form beside him. After a moment, he remembered the events of the night before, Burt’s awful news, and the way he had cried in Blaine’s arms. Blaine had probably helped him to bed, as he sometimes did when Kurt fell asleep watching television or studying, or on the few occasions he had a bit too much to drink. He felt a rush of gratitude and affection for his husband, and curled around him carefully. Blaine’s face was turned toward him, with the moonlight falling across it from the bedroom window. Kurt reached up and gently traced the beautiful face he knew and loved so well. But at the touch, Blaine frowned in his sleep, tossing fitfully and sitting up suddenly with a gasp.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Kurt whispered.

Blaine turned in confusion, still clearly more than half-asleep but upset by something, a dream, perhaps.

“Lie down, cutie. You’re okay, go back to sleep. You need it,” he said fondly. He drew Blaine down to lie in his arms, spooning him from behind, and in a moment, Blaine settled with a small whimper before his breath evened out again as Kurt watched him sleep. When he was sure that Blaine was down for the count, Kurt stealthily ran his free hand down Blaine’s chest, enjoying the smoothness of his ridiculous 1950s style silk pajamas. He reached the hem of the shirt, slipped his hand underneath, and carefully pressed a hand to Blaine’s belly. It was too early to feel any changes, really, but he liked to think about his baby growing inside, a piece of himself, and in a way a legacy of Burt’s too by extension. Burt would live on in his grandchild.

Kurt idly wished it was possible for men to have more than one child, like women could. He’d like to have a big family of his own. Maybe someday, he would be able to carry their next baby, if he was lucky enough to be one of the 20 or 25 percent of men who even had the ability to get pregnant. It wasn’t even something they could plan, unlike women, who were fertile twelve times a year at relatively predictable intervals. With men, there was no pattern or way to know.

It was just pure luck that Blaine had happened to be pregnant now, of all times, when Kurt needed something good in his life to look forward to, and so did Burt. Really, it was a miracle, he reflected. Blaine occasionally bottomed when they made love, and Kurt believed Blaine was flexible in that way, but Kurt preferred to bottom. Since they had gotten back together, he had topped Blaine only once that he could recall, and it was also the only time he and Blaine had been so overcome with passion that they forgot all about protection. Their very first time together after they broke their engagement. That day, he had been sitting in the Lima Bean, waiting for Walter to come out of the bathroom so they could order their coffee, when he looked up and spotted Dave Karofsky at the doorway. He had cringed at the sight of him.

Oh, he knew Dave had changed. He knew Dave had been troubled, and that his bullying ways were hiding deep pain and self-hatred back at McKinley. But seeing that hulking body, those ham-like hands, those piercing sharp eyes, always took him back to high school and sent a momentary panic through his heart. And the thought of Dave and Blaine, together, added a sickening pain to the mix. He had been trying to move on, or at least have some semblance of a life and date other people, but every time he saw Dave he knew he would never be “over it.” Dave had come over to his table, and stood looking down at him silently.

_“Hey Dave,” Kurt offered. “How’s it going?”_

_“Blaine told me what happened at Rachel’s party.”_

_“Um. What exactly did he tell you …?” Kurt ventured cautiously, fidgeting with the sugar packets with one hand, while trying to gauge what Dave knew about Rachel’s party, about the kiss Blaine had impulsively given him afterwards._

_Dave’s face turned annoyed. “You’re afraid I’m going to go all high school bully on you – or Blaine – because of what happened?” He pulled out a chair and sat down, looking like a big hurt panda bear. “I know he sang with you, and kissed you. And if you’re afraid I’m going to give you a beat-down over it, or Blaine, then you haven’t been paying attention lately. I’m not that guy. Not anymore,” he insisted. Kurt pushed the sugar packets away._

_"I’m not sure what you want from me here, Dave.”_

_"I want to know why you rejected him. What kind of weird game you’re playing and why you keep hurting him.”_

_“_ _Excuse me?”_

_“Look. I … I like Blaine a lot. Love him, even.”_

_Kurt closed his eyes and bit his lip, willing back a wave of nausea._

_Dave continued, “So … I’m worried about him. You come back here for the semester to try to get him back. You stay even after he says he’s with me. You sing a duet with him at a party, let him kiss you. Then you reject him, it’s … it’s not cool to toy with him like that.”_

_Kurt exploded. “I don’t know where you’re getting that idea from, pal. Blaine kissed me at the party, I let him, and then he stopped and ran off like he left the iron on at your house. Without a word. He never gave me a chance to reject him. Actually, it was more like the other way around.”_

___"That’s not when I’m talking about.”_

_“Dave,” Kurt sighed. “This is really a moot point. Blaine is with you. He moved in with you. He ran back to you. You, of all people,” he snarled. “The one person that would hurt me the most for him to be with. You won. He’s yours, trust me. He had a moment of nostalgia and we had a little kiss, it meant nothing to him, other than a big mistake he regrets. Okay? Is this conversation over?”_

_“You don’t get it, do you,” Dave snapped back. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here - -“_

_"You’re always the bigger person, Dave,” Kurt smirked meanly. “_ _No matter where you go - -“_

_"Cut it out, Kurt, and let me tell you this. I broke up with him. I’ve moved back to the dorms.”_

_“Because of one kiss?” Kurt said after a pause._

_“No. Because I know that he still wants you and loves you. And you still love him, or you wouldn’t be in Lima. A place you spent 18 years trying to get away from.”_

_"I know what I want, Dave. But is it really over between you two?”_

_“That’s what I said. He went to tell you, try to get you back, but you were going out with that old guy you’ve been hanging around with, and he thinks it’s too late.” Dave got up. “I won’t ask you if he’s right, because I know he isn’t.” He looked at Kurt. “Your face says it all. Now it’s up to you what to do about it.”_

_As Dave left, Kurt pulled the invitation Brittany had sent him to her wedding, that had arrived just this morning. She had written the address in different colors of crayon. “Mr. Kurt Hummel and Mr. Blaine Anderson. Not Dave and not Walter.” Now Dave telling him the same. And when Blaine had kissed him at the party, his face had told him too. Blaine still loved him. He did._

_Walter had left the bathroom and was beckoning to him at the counter._

_Kurt made up his mind. No more pain, no more waiting, no more anything except love._

_After saying goodbye to Walter, a kind soul who would never take Blaine’s place in his heart, he couldn’t wait any more. Walter had picked him up to go to the Bean, and he had no car, but the mile to Blaine’s house flew past as he ran, ran with his heart pounding, to Blaine’s door, to Blaine’s arms. Their kiss turned desperate and crazed, there in the hallway of Blaine’s rainbow-festooned apartment amid boxes of Dave’s belongings. He gently guided Blaine down onto his hands and knees and knelt behind him, trembling and still gasping for breath, fumbling at his belt and pants, forgetting everything – the open door, the hard floor, everything except the need to bury himself in Blaine’s warmth, to reclaim him, to be one again with him. Before either of them really knew what was happening, their pants were hastily shoved down to their ankles, and Kurt’s arms were tightly wrapped around Blaine’s waist as his clumsy fingers tried to work Blaine open._

_“Please,” Blaine sobbed, “I want you—“_

_Kurt’s control gave way. Blaine was so tight, so hot, and he gasped in mingled pain, pleasure and surprise as Kurt pressed in bare. Kurt paused a second but Blaine breathed, “Move, baby - -“ and he managed a few jerking thrusts before he came embarrassingly quickly, with a shudder. He had made it up to Blaine, though, remembering to shut the front door to the apartment before turning Blaine over onto his back on the thin, rainbow striped hallway runner, tenderly stripping his bow tie and shirt away, slipping off his shoes and socks, and drawing his pants off. He straddled Blaine’s naked body and took his time with his mouth worshipping every part until Blaine came moaning his name, then moved them into the bedroom where they made love slowly, repeatedly, all afternoon._

 

Kurt gulped, uncomfortably hard as he relived that special afternoon – special because it was their reunion but also because that must have been when they made their own baby – and felt a slight rustle.

“I see you’re up,” Blaine murmured. “Can I help you with that?”

He grinned and reached for the nightstand.


	4. The Big Day

“Good mornin’, good mornin’!”  Kurt’s alarm trilled in Judy Garland’s 1939 version of the song.   “We’ve talked the whole night through!  Good mornin’, good mornin’, to you - -“

Kurt scrabbled at the bedside table, then switched the alarm off and stared at it, bleary-eyed.  8:00 a.m.   Why was he up again?  He had made it a point to schedule all his classes after eleven - - Oh.

It was Friday!  Blaine’s OB-AND appointment!  And time for his big ‘surprise’!

He bounded out of bed, suddenly energized and excited, and then caught himself.  No point in ruining the surprise after managing to keep quiet all this time.  He went to the clothing rack by the window and selected his best robe, a burgundy silk number Blaine had given him as a honeymoon present.  He wanted to look good for Blaine’s announcement, since it was pretty likely that Blaine planned to videotape his reaction.  He hoped he would give a good performance as a surprised, thrilled father-to-be.  He wouldn’t have to fake the happiness part, at least.  And he thought he could pull off surprised, especially after two years at NYADA. 

Slipping on the robe, he nudged his feet into the matching slippers and checked his hair in the full-length mirror by their bed.  He nodded approvingly.  Tousled just artfully enough, without edging into slovenliness.   He took a deep breath and forced himself to walk casually out to the living room, pretending to stretch and yawn as he made his entrance.

He stopped, confused, and looked around.  The combined living space and kitchen was empty, with a clean bowl, spoon, and juice glass air-drying in the dish rack by the sink.  Glancing by the door, he saw that Blaine’s key was missing … and there was a note on the refrigerator. 

Kurt padded over the refrigerator and took down the lighthouse-shaped souvenir magnet from their honeymoon in Provincetown, and held up the note to read it. 

_Out on some errands.  Pancakes and fresh OJ for you in the fridge if you get up early.  See you after class.  Love you, Blaine._

He stood looking at the note for a full minute, reading it over again as if it was possible to misunderstand it.  Blaine hadn’t been saving the appointment for a surprise.  Blaine had no intention of telling him about the appointment, let alone including him in it.    _But why?  Why the secrecy?_

Kurt’s lips tightened, and he scrunched the paper in his fist.

                                                                        ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  ~

Kurt’s shoes clicked sharply on the marble-tiled floor as he strode toward the OB-AND’s office at the end of the hallway.   As he reached the door, he hesitated with his hand on the doorknob.  After all, this was Blaine’s appointment.  Blaine’s pregnancy.  This might be overstepping things.

 _Maybe I should just wait a little longer.  Maybe Blaine wants to confirm the pregnancy and make sure everything’s okay, to protect me from stress or disappointment on top of Dad’s cancer.  But_ …

But, if Blaine wasn’t pregnant, then he needed to be there for Blaine to help him through the disappointment he was sure Blaine would feel.  Or, if God forbid there was a problem with the pregnancy, he didn’t want Blaine trying to deal with it alone out of some misguided attempt to spare him worry or strain.  No.  He was Blaine’s husband and that baby’s father, and he should be there.  He opened the door and stepped inside, looking around the waiting room at the waiting couples, heads bent over clipboards balanced on armrests between them, before spotting Blaine alone in the corner, working on his own forms.

He smiled and went over to sit down quietly in the empty chair beside Blaine.  “Want some help with those?”

Blaine looked up, startled, then panicky-looking.  “Kurt! What are - - how did you know - - I was here?”

“Never mind that,” Kurt said gently, putting a hand over Blaine’s.  “I’m here now.  I’m so happy about this, Blaine, I - -“

“Hold up, there,” Blaine interrupted. “I asked you a question.  How did you know I was here?  Did you go through my personal things?  Or check my phone?  Kurt, how _could_ you --”

Kurt felt his face heat up. 

“Well, Blaine, I could ask you how you could keep something like this from me for weeks, if we’re getting technical, but now isn’t exactly the time or place for that,” he said through clenched teeth, looking sidelong at the nearby couples pretending not to overhear their tiff. 

Seeing Blaine’s distressed face, he softened.  “Look, I confess.  I figured it out a long time ago by accident.  I snooped just a little to confirm it, that’s all.  I was worried and dying of curiosity, can you blame me?  Please don’t be mad that I ruined the surprise - - I just wanted so much to be with you today for this.  Please,” he wheedled, batting his lashes at Blaine.  “Forgive me?”

Blaine’s face went a little gray, his eyes flickering away.  “There’s nothing to forgive you for,” he said.  His free hand trembled, rustling the papers on the clipboard slightly. Kurt frowned, holding Blaine’s other hand tighter. 

“What’s the matter, honey?  Aren’t you feeling well?  Can I get you some water?”

“Please stop being nice to me,” Blaine whispered.  “God, I’m such a coward.”

Kurt drew in a sharp breath. 

“What is it, Blaine?  What’s wrong?  Don’t you – don’t you want the baby? Is that it?  Were you planning on just having a termination and not even discussing it?” he asked. 

Blaine didn’t answer.

“I know it’s your body and you have a right to choose, but - - but you know what a miracle this is, don’t you?  And - - I know I shouldn’t have, but I.”  He cleared his throat.  “I already said something to my dad, and he’s so excited - -“

“You did _what?_ ” Blaine stood up, dropping the clipboard and pen to the floor with a clatter, and scattering the half-dozen forms at his feet.  “Kurt, what the hell?  What were you thinking, telling him that, without even talking to _me_ first?”

“Please,” Kurt whispered, still clutching Blaine’s hand.  “Please don’t be mad.  He said he wasn’t going to have the treatment.  I – I told him to give him a reason to go through with it, to try and beat the cancer again.  It was an impulse, I know it was wrong, but it was for a good cause!”

Blaine sat back down into his chair with a thud, and stared blankly ahead.  “So my baby is what’s keeping Burt alive?”

“ _Our_ baby,” Kurt reminded him.   “And.  Well, yeah.  He’s really excited about seeing his first grandchild, of course, so he’s getting treatment now because of that.”

Blaine dropped his head in his hand.  “No pressure,” he mumbled.

“I - - I don’t understand,” Kurt admitted.  “I thought you wanted kids, someday.  I know it’s a bit early, and we’re young, but… I feel like it’s meant to be.  Don’t you?” he asked anxiously.

Blaine rubbed his forehead with his free hand.  “I don’t know.  I haven’t even thought about what I _want,_ if it turns out - -“ he stopped, peering into Kurt’s face intently. 

“You really haven’t figured out - - the problem, Kurt?”

Kurt swallowed hard, and started babbling.  “Well, I know it’s a bad time in one way … with you having to leave NYADA last year, and just starting at NYU.  Is that it?  Because, in another way, it’s a great time before we’re both busy working full time and have less flexibility.  And you know, of course, I’ll do whatever I can to make it work so you can go back to school as soon as possible. If that's what's worrying you, I’ll work my schedule around yours, I’ll - - “

“Kurt,” Blaine said.  “Please stop.  Please.  You’re making this even harder, and … you’re going to hate me in about a minute.”

“I could never hate you.”

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut.  “You _have_ hated me before.  Remember?”

Kurt kept his voice steady.  “I never hated you.  Never.  Not really.  I was hurt, angry, yes, but that was because I love you so much, not because I hated you for anything that happened.  I thought you knew that by now.”

Blaine was still silent.

“I still don’t understand why you’re acting like this.  Or what you’re so scared of…”

“Because you don’t want to,” Blaine cut in, pityingly.  “There’s no way it wouldn’t have occurred to you otherwise.”

Kurt stared at him, willing him not to say it.  _Don’t say it.  Don’t, please._

_Don’t let it be true._

“Kurt, I don’t know if the baby’s yours.  I want it to be, with all my heart.  But it could be Dave’s.”

“Mr. Anderson?” a voice called from the desk.  “The doctor will see you now.”

 


	5. Angry Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get tense at the doctor's office.

 

Kurt found himself numbly following Blaine and the nurse down a hallway toward an examination room.  _How did I not realize it.  How did I not put it together._

“Exam room two,” the nurse said, pointing with a smile.  “And is this your partner?”

Blaine took the cotton hospital gown she handed him, and nodded.  “My husband, Kurt Hummel.”

“Nice to meet you both.   My name is Dahlia, and I’m Dr. Weber’s nurse.  Mr. Anderson, take off your shoes and step up on this scale, okay?  Mr. Hummel, you can have a seat over there.”  She gestured toward the corner, and Kurt silently made his way to sit down, while Blaine got on the scale.

“145 pounds,” Dahlia murmured, pushing the slider weight back to the left with a clatter that made Kurt jump.  “Good place to start out.  Hop up on this table for me, and I’ll get your blood pressure.”

Blaine took off his blazer and Dahlia applied the cuff to his upper arm.  Kurt stared at him, still in shock, but Blaine kept his eyes fixed on the floor.  “Hm.  It’s rather high,” Dahlia said with a frown.  She deflated the cuff.  “We’ll recheck it in a while. Sometimes the white coats make people a little nervous.  And to make things even more nerve-wracking, I’m afraid I need to get some blood.  If you could roll up your sleeve, please?”

Dahlia expertly drew two vials of blood, capping them off and disposing of the needle in a sharps box by the door.  “Mr. Anderson, you need to take everything off but your underwear, and put this gown on.  The opening should be in the front.  Dr. Weber will be in to see you.”

When the door shut behind Dahlia, Blaine sighed and reached up with shaking hands to undo his tie.  Blue with a wide red stripe and a narrow yellow stripe, with the reverse a square floral print in yellow.  The one Blaine wore when he proposed at the end of his senior year of high school.  So much had happened since then. 

“Why’d you have to pick that one to wear today?” Kurt asked suddenly.

Blaine froze with the tie hanging in his hands, and looked down at it.  “I guess I wear it when I want to remember a good memory.”  He rolled the tie neatly and placed it in the blazer’s pocket.  “I didn’t think it would matter.  I didn’t expect you to see it.”

“Never mind.  It was a stupid question.”

Blaine slipped out of his button-down and hung it up on a nearby hook, the blazer over it.  Picking up the hospital gown, he asked, “You probably have a lot of other questions.  Might as well get it out there while we wait for the doctor.”

“I really don’t think this is the time or place for vivid details, Blaine.”

“Fine,” Blaine snapped back.  He tied off the robe and reached underneath, pulling off his belt.  The navy highwaters dropped to the floor and he bent to grab them, shaking them out and folding them over the chair. 

Kurt got up and turned his back on his husband, pulling a slat in the venetian blinds to peer out onto the street.  Too high up to see much.  A minute or two crawled by, with Kurt tapping on the windowsill with one hand and pretending to stare out the gap in the blinds.  Finally, he let the strip of plastic snap back into place, and turned, arms crossed.  “Okay, since it’s question-and-answer period, and you’re so eager to tell me how the hell this happened.  Go ahead.   When was the last time he fucked you?”

He saw Blaine’s neck ripple as he swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.  “It was the night before you came to see me, actually.” 

Kurt swung back around and faced the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

Blaine started babbling, his voice getting higher and faster from behind Kurt.  “Dave and I were broken up, technically, but I went looking for you, to ask you to get back together - - I thought you wanted to - - and.  Well.  You were busy with Walter.  So. I thought I was too late, and I wanted to die, because I lost my chance.  Again.  So - - I went back to the apartment, and Dave was packing up, and.  Well, we were both really sad, and crying, and then we – well, we kind of fell into bed together and – then afterwards, we realized the condom broke, and - -“

“Stop,” Kurt whispered.  “Please stop.”  He felt Blaine’s hand, soft on his arm.

“Kurt.  You and I weren’t together then.  You can’t blame me for - - looking for comfort - -“

Kurt’s stomach turned.  Comfort.  _Comfort_.  Dave Karofsky had _comforted him._ Blaine had decided to come for Kurt, and then turned right back around and run back to Dave, _Dave Karofsky_ , for _comfort._   Dave, that bully, who had hurt Kurt in so many ways not so very long ago, and nobody knew that more than Blaine did.  He didn’t know who he was angrier at.  Dave, for taking a chance to hurt him one more time and take advantage of Blaine, or Blaine, for letting it happen, for letting someone else touch him, but especially Dave, who he worked so hard to forgive and now hated more than ever. 

He turned around and met Blaine’s eyes.  “I do blame you.  You _knew_ I wanted to get back together.  I _told_ you that.  You _knew_ that was why I went back to Lima, and spent the whole semester there trying to get you back.  Why I fixed it so we’d sing together at Rachel’s party … everything I did since I went back to Lima was for you.  How could you sleep with him again, when we were so close to getting back together?   Was it to punish me?  Was that it?”

“Of course not! I didn’t even think you would care!” Blaine protested.

“I don’t get that, Blaine, honestly.”  Kurt threw up his hands.  “How could you give up on me that easy, when I never gave up on you?”

Blaine’s face went from pleading and sorrowful to angry, his thick eyebrows lowering into a scowl.  “You’re not serious. You gave up on me, you broke up with me, gave me back my ring, you broke my heart!  Do you know how long it took me to even get out of bed, get my life together after that?  How much Dave helped me feel decent about myself again?”

“Don’t!”  Kurt put his hands, clenched into fists, over his ears, and shook his head.  “Don’t talk to me about how Dave made you feel, I don’t want to hear it!” 

“Fine!  But then don’t blame me for not being a mind-reader - -“

“I blame you for not being able to keep it in your pants, _again_ , Blaine.  You feel bad for a few minutes and you have to find somebody to fuck it better?  Instead of, I don’t know, _talking to me?_ You needed comfort, I let you down, I get it, but did you have to get _that_ kind of comfort from _him?”_

“You know what, Kurt – I thought we were past the whole Dave thing -- but …” Blaine paused and gripped the exam table, swaying a moment. 

Kurt forgot everything in an instant, and put his hand out to steady him.  “Blaine – are you okay - -“

“Just go.”

Kurt blinked.  “What?”

The door swung open and a small woman with short, curly dark hair strode in, with Dahlia close behind.  “Hello, Mr. Anderson.  I’m Dr. Weber.  Nice to meet you.”  she paused, glancing back and forth between the two young men.  “Erm.  Is everything okay?”

“… yes.  My husband was just leaving,” Blaine said.  “See you later, Kurt.”

“You want me to leave?  Really?”

Blaine nodded, eyes full of hurt tears.  “You obviously don’t want to be here.  And I’m getting a headache from this, so yes, please go.”

Dahlia cleared her throat.  “Mr. Anderson had an elevated blood pressure earlier, Doctor.  155/80.”  She tapped Blaine on the shoulder and gestured toward the exam table.  “Should I take it again?” she asked, already strapping the cuff back on Blaine’s arm.

“Yes,” Dr. Weber said, looking cautiously at Kurt.  “Sir, maybe you should wait outside.”

“Or at home,” Blaine suggested stiffly, as Dahlia checked his blood pressure.

“It’s 165/80 now,” Dahlia said, removing the cuff with a tear of the Velcro fasteners.   

“Is that – is that really high?  That sounds really high,” Kurt asked, worried.  

Dr. Weber caught Dahlia’s eye.  “Get him a glass of water, please, Dahlia.”

Kurt wrung his hands as Dahlia stepped quickly to the sink and took a paper cup from a cabinet.

“Mr. Anderson, I’d like you to lie down on your left side,” Dr. Weber instructed Blaine.  “- - and sir, I’m afraid if Mr. Anderson isn’t comfortable with you staying, I’m going to have to ask you to go.”  Dr. Weber, barely five feet tall, but stern, took Kurt lightly by the arm to guide him toward the door.

He pulled away and stepped around Dahlia to stand by the exam table, where Blaine lay down slowly, facing away from him, the cup of water clutched in his hand.

He touched Blaine’s shoulder.  “Please, Blaine, will you let the doctor give us a minute?  Will you do that for me? Please?”  he whispered.  “I’m sorry.  You’re right.  It’s no one’s fault this happened.  We weren’t together, I have no right to be angry - - but it’s just - - a lot to take in.  Don’t shut me out, please, let me stay?”

Dahlia put her arm around him.  “Mr. Hummel … I’m sorry, but you have to go.”


	6. Androcology 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys learn a few things, but not everything.

"Mr. Hummel, please," Dahlia coaxed. "We need to get started with your husband's appointment."

"Blaine? Can I stay?" Kurt asked again. 

"Okay," Blaine said softly, clasping Kurt's hand on his shoulder. He rolled over onto his back and looked sheepishly at the doctor and nurse. "Please excuse all this drama ... we have a little bit of a complicated situation here. Things are a little emotional right now."

"So I gathered," Dr. Weber said dryly. "She sat down on a stool beside the exam table and gave Blaine a kind smile. "What seems to be the trouble?" She nodded to the nurse, who handed her an iPad. 

Blaine fiddled with the cup in his hands. "Kurt and I haven't been married very long."

"Not surprising. How old are you two? You look about the age of my son. Twenty?"

"I'm nineteen," Blaine said. Dr. Weber noted something down on the iPad. 

"Kurt's twenty, though. And we've been married about three months. The thing is ... I was living with someone else right before we got together. And I had, well, unprotected sex with that person, and then with Kurt, pretty much within twelve hours." Blaine was bright red. "I'm usually very careful, but - -"

"I get the picture," Dr. Weber said, finishing a note in the iPad. "So first thing we need to do is confirm the pregnancy, and I assume you'd like to find out how far along you are. We can do both with an ultrasound, right now as a matter of fact." She set the iPad down. 

"So what made you go into this field?" Kurt asked nervously. 

Dr. Weber smiled, clicking on the monitor by the exam table and turning it so it was in view of everyone in the room. "I had two dads," she said. "They wanted to have a child of their own, but back in those days. Well, it was pretty dangerous." She gestured to Blaine, putting on a pair of latex gloves. "Shirt up, waistband of your undies down, for the gooey stuff." She picked up a bottle from a metal holder by the monitor. "It may feel a little hot, it's warmed," she said, and squirted blue gel over Blaine's exposed belly. Her face grew a little sad for a fleeting moment. "My dads adopted me when I was ten, and then a few years later, one of them got pregnant. The androcology field was ... primitive, back then, to put it kindly. I lost my dad," she said, biting her lip as she ran the doppler wand over Blaine's belly. She gestured with her head to a picture on the opposite wall. It showed two men in their thirties. "That's the last picture I had of both of them together."

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said. 

"It isn't that dangerous nowadays, right?" Kurt asked anxiously, stroking Blaine's hand. 

"Well, it's a lot better than it used to be, thankfully. But that was why I wanted to go into this field, to help folks like my dads. There we go."

A swooshing sound filled the room. "That's your baby's heartbeat," Dr. Weber said, smiling and squinting at the monitor. She reached with her free hand and started clicking with a mouse on the monitor stand, and lines and numbers appeared on the screen. Kurt looked intently at the screen, but ...

"Is that the baby?" he asked timidly. 

Dr. Weber laughed. "No, hon. That's the pseudo-uterus. I'm measuring how big it is." She looked up at Kurt's uncertain face. "Any questions?"

"Well. I don't know much about male pregnancy," Kurt admitted, shame-faced. "They barely covered female pregnancy in school. They never even mentioned male pregnancy."

"I know. Another pet peeve of mine. I'll just start simple and explain it, okay?" She pointed at the screen. "This is the pseudo-uterus. It contains the male ovary, unlike female ovaries which are outside the uterus and have Fallopian tubes to carry the egg toward the uterus for implantation. With men, the ovary and eggs are already there inside the male uterus, waiting for sperm to come along." She swiveled in the chair and pointed at the wall behind her toward a diagram. "In carrier males, the rectum contains an extra valve connected to a structure somewhat similar to a Fallopian tube, which leads to the pseudo-uterus. That valve can open during orgasm, because it is very close to the prostate." She turned back to the table, and reapplied the wand. "When fertilization occurs, the pseudo-uterus begins to expand quickly, and most of the time, avulses the tube from the rectum, with the opening usually closing up on its own. That is one reason men can only have one pregnancy. The other is that, with carrier males, there is no way to deliver naturally. There's no vagina. In the past, before cesarean section was invented, those pregnancies ended with the baby passing away and being reabsorbed, often with very serious consequences for the carrier. But even with cesarean sections, the pseudo-uterus is a lot weaker than the female uterus, and much more vascular. Cesarean section requires the ligation of a lot of the arteries supplying the pseudo-uterus, and the incisions in the pseudo-uterus are not repairable. So the whole thing needs to come out along with the male ovary."

"Is that my baby," Blaine interrupted, raising a hand to the screen. Kurt stole a look at Blaine's face turned toward the screen. Blaine's eyes were shining, his lip caught between his teeth. 

"Sure is," Dr. Weber smiled. 

"Hi baby," Blaine whispered, rubbing his hand across his eyes suddenly, and then turning away from the screen. "So. How far along am I?"

Dr. Weber sat back, and pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. "The computer calculates a likely date of conception based on all the measurements," she explained. A smaller box popped up on the monitor. "Looks like conception happened about 13 weeks ago," she said. "Does that help narrow anything down?

Blaine burst into tears, shaking his head. "No," he choked. "But - there must be some other way to know," he said desperately, clasping Kurt's hand tighter. "DNA testing, or - - "

"There isn't, I'm sorry to say. Amniocentesis is very difficult and risky, because the pseudo-uterus is so fragile. It isn't recommended."

The room grew silent for a moment, except for the swooshing sound. Kurt looked down at the floor, thoroughly defeated for the moment. Blaine's hand slipped from his grip, and he looked over at Blaine questioningly.

Blaine's face was set, his hands clutched in fists by his side. He suddenly pulled down the gown to cover his belly. "Then ... I guess I need to schedule a termination," Blaine said, his voice dull and strained.


	7. Reactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt literally stewing over Blaine's decision

Back at the apartment after a silent walk home from the doctor's, Blaine stepped out of his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket, on the way to the bedroom, leaving them strewn across the floor. Something neat, particular Blaine never did. Kurt set his keys by the door and watched the bedroom door shut behind his husband. So much for talking about this.

He had classes later, but going to school for an improv class was out of the question. He might be an actor but, he realized he wasn't quite enough of one to pretend he was okay today for the benefit of the nosy, catty students in his NYADA drama class. 

He listlessly made his way around the room, gathering the two loafers and brightly patterned blazer from where Blaine left them scattered. He placed the two shoes side-by-side near the door and then stood to hang the blazer up on a hook, brushing off the neatly pressed sleeves. He stood for a moment, holding the small jacket, that Blaine probably got from the Brooks Brothers boys' department, then pressed his face to it. It smelled faintly like Blaine. A combination of Tom Ford's Grey Vetiver and raspberry hair gel. He breathed it in, wishing Blaine was willing to talk to him. But Blaine had looked so determined, had been so quiet since the doctor's office. It was clear this topic was closed, at least for now. Kurt blinked back tears and let go of the jacket

Turning and gazing around the apartment, he sighed. Might as well find something to do, give Blaine a little space, a little time alone if that was what he needed. He wandered into the kitchen area and pulled their slow cooker, a wedding gift from Jan and Liz back in Lima, out from the cabinet. He set it on the counter and plugged it in, and then started gathering ingredients for chicken soup. Blaine's favorite. He took down three boxes of organic chicken stock from the shelf, and stood staring at the tiled back splash while upending them one after the other into the crock pot. Blaine didn't want to have the baby. He didn't want it. There wasn't going to be a baby after all. He stumbled to the refrigerator and took out bags of carrots and celery, a couple of onions, a bundle of leeks, and carried them to the counter.

Prepping the vegetables kept his hands busy, but his mind was blank and stunned as he peeled and trimmed and methodically diced, the knife moving steadily up and down. The onions stung his eyes, and he let the tears run down his face. Blaine had scheduled the abortion for Dr. Weber's next surgery day, which was in seven days. Technically he wouldn't have to tell his dad about this until after that. He shuddered at the thought of telling his father. Burt started chemotherapy today, and really he should call him to lend him some support, but he couldn't bear even to talk to him today. He just couldn't. Burt had been texting him suggestions for baby names and questions about the pregnancy, and he would be sure to ask how Blaine and the baby were doing. He wasn't sure he could lie to Burt right now, and he wasn't ready to tell him the truth. 

He dumped the chopped vegetables into the pot. He went back to the refrigerator and found the package of chicken Blaine had bought yesterday. He unwrapped the plastic, rinsed the chicken pieces and added them to the mix. He placed the lid on and set the timer. Blaine could have this for a late lunch later, after he got up from napping. Kurt was pretty sure that his own appetite would be shot for the rest of the day.

Returning to the sink, he turned on the tap, running the water hot. He leaned against the sink while washing his hands in the scalding water. He thought about asking Blaine, begging him, not to do this. He could tell him that the disappointment of being told there would be no grandchild to look forward to would, perhaps literally, kill Burt. He could use that as leverage. 

He dismissed the thought, ashamed that it had even occurred to him. This was Blaine's decision and Blaine's alone, and pressuring him or guilting him into going through with it would be wrong on every level of wrongness there was. And pointless, because if Blaine didn't want a baby then it would be a mistake for him to have one, to be saddled with that responsibility at 19 against his wishes. Of course there was nothing to say, it was Blaine's right to choose.

It was just so disappointing. And worse ... Blaine was so quick to throw away what could be their baby. There was a chance, the odds were 50/50, that the baby was his, and Blaine didn't seem to have any hesitation about giving up what was probably their only chance at having a baby that was both of theirs together. "Schedule a termination". Just like that. Like he was booking a manicure. 

The water was turning his hands bright red, and he reached up and shut off the water. He stood leaning on his arms, his hands dripping into the sink. What did it mean that Blaine didn't want what could be their baby. Why didn't he want it. They had always said they would have children someday, though of course, that probably would have been through a surrogate or adoption years from now. Now they had a once in a lifetime chance to have a baby without going through all that, a baby that very well could be theirs in every sense of the word. And Blaine didn't even consider it. He had been so excited at the prospect of starting a family, and Blaine ... Blaine had kept this from him, hoped he would never find out. If he hadn't found that pregnancy test and appointment card, maybe Blaine never would have told him. 

Kurt felt cold all over suddenly. He glanced over at the shut door between him and Blaine. Literally shutting him out. He pushed away from the counter, and headed for the door. 

He needed time alone too.


	8. Schrodinger's Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk it out

****

Kurt wandered the streets, looking into store window after store window, but he wasn’t really even seeing the displays.  Retail therapy, even just window-shopping, usually cheered him up, but today was a lost cause.   He hit rock bottom when he reached the Baby Gap window.  He stopped, and a physical pain shot through him as he looked at the preppy baby mannequins on display, in bright madras and eyelet and seersucker for springtime.  He stood there motionlessly, in too much pain to even cry, as passersby furtively glanced at him while giving him a wide berth on the sidewalk.  

He spent ten minutes at it, staring blankly and thinking about the baby Blaine was carrying and didn’t want.  He finally snapped out of it when he noticed the Baby Gap employees pointing and whispering inside the store.   He sighed.  This was getting him nowhere.  Might as well go home and drown his sorrows in chicken soup. 

When he reached his floor, he sat down in the stairwell and untied his Doc Martens, picking them up by the laces and tiptoeing down the hall.  He opened the door as quietly as he could, in case Blaine was asleep.  As he came inside, and set down his boots by the door, he was startled to hear muffled crying from the bathroom. 

He padded across the room, and tapped on the door.  Blaine’s crying stopped with a choking sob.  “You okay?  Blaine?  I’m coming in, okay?”  He opened the door and felt his heart melting when he saw Blaine, sitting on the toilet lid, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. 

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently, grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the counter, and crossing in front of Blaine to sit on the edge of the tub.  He separated a tissue from the pile and wiped Blaine’s face.   Blaine leaned into the touch like a cat, letting him.

“I’m – I’m sorry,” Blaine whispered.  “I thought you’d be at class.  I – I didn’t mean for you to see me like this.”   His face crumpled, and he shoved a balled-up tissue against his eyes.  “And I’m sorry about screwing up everything.”

“I already told you, I was wrong to bring that up again.  It’s in the past,” Kurt soothed him, stroking his arm. 

“It will be, if that’s what you want,” Blaine choked out. 

“Wait.  What I want?  You- you think I -”

Blaine kept talking.  “I get it, Kurt, I do.  I thought you forgave Dave – but you still hate him.  And you can’t be with me if – the baby ends up being his.  I love you so much, Kurt.  I’ll do anything to make our marriage work. Even … even …”  Blaine dropped his head on his hands again.

Kurt reached out and ran a hand over Blaine’s smooth, shiny gelled head, and sighed deeply.  He felt a kernel of hope, finally, but it seemed it was time to stop guessing what each other wanted, and start talking.  And listening.

He slid his hand down Blaine’s face and turned his chin up.   “I think we need to go sit someplace comfortable to talk this out.  I have a feeling this could take a while. C’mon.”  He took Blaine’s hand, and tugged him to a stand. 

Blaine followed along obediently as Kurt led him out to the living room couch. 

“I think you need a drink.  You’re probably dehydrated from all that crying,” Kurt said.     He headed toward the refrigerator.

“You were crying too,” Blaine observed faintly, sitting down and reaching for the box of tissues on the side table. 

“That I was,” Kurt agreed.  He grabbed two bottles of water and headed back to the couch.   He set one bottle down on the table, and twisted the cap off the other.  “Here.  Drink, okay?”

He sat down and put his arm around Blaine, waiting for him to take a drink.  “Now.  Tell the truth.  Do you want an abortion?”

“I want what you want,” Blaine said cautiously, eyeing him over the water bottle. 

Kurt bit his lip.  “That’s not a real answer.  Tell me what you want.”

“It’s hard for me to do that – I …” Blaine trailed off.  He slowly replaced the cap on the water bottle.  Kurt took the drink away from him and set it on the table.

“Try.  It’s important.”

“I want to have _your_ baby.”  Blaine took a deep breath.  “But. I want our marriage to work.  I think it’d be a major strain on the marriage if we go through an entire pregnancy, and then find out it’s not yours.”

Kurt nodded.  “Do you want to know how I feel?”

“I already know,” Blaine said.  “You made it plain enough in the waiting room.”

“I didn’t say how I felt about the baby,” Kurt protested.

“No.  But you made it plain that my relationship with Dave is still a major issue for you.  How can our marriage take it if there’s a permanent souvenir of that, walking around for the next sixty or seventy years of our life?”

“What if I tell you I think that having our own baby is worth that chance?”

Blaine looked away.  “You say that now.  I’m afraid you won’t always feel that way.”  He looked back.  “Will you throw in my face in a fight, someday?” 

“I’d never do that—“

“You did it today, Kurt!” Blaine protested.  “And.  Hear me out, okay?  This is hard to talk about.  But I feel like …” he sighed.  “Things broke between us when I cheated on you in high school.  We glued it back together, but.  The cracks will always be there.  I made a horrible, disgusting mistake when I was 17 years old, and I don’t excuse myself; but I’ve kind of accepted the fact that I’m going to be defined by that mistake for rest of my life as far, as you’re concerned.  I’m always going to be at a disadvantage in every argument, because you forgave me and are willing to be with me after what I did.  Maybe I deserve that, but.”  He crossed his arms over his chest.  “But if the baby is Dave’s.  There’s another failure on my part, something else for you to resent about me.  That’d be bad enough, if it was just me involved.  I can’t justify bringing an innocent baby into that mix, making his or her whole existence … something you have to … tolerate.  To get over.”

Kurt was silent for a long moment. 

“Kurt?”

He blinked.  “That’s a lot to take in,” he said, his voice sounding small even to him.  “I’ve worked really hard at forgiving you for Eli, for Dave.  I found out I loved you enough to want to forgive you.  But I guess you’re right.  Maybe part of me deep down still hurts over what happened with them.  Maybe that part hasn’t forgotten, even if I have forgiven you.  And yes, it comes out sometimes when we’re fighting, and that’s not really fair.”  He reached for Blaine’s hand.  “They always say forgive _and_ forget, and I haven’t always been able to quite get to “forget”, I admit.  Let me ask you … can _you_ forgive _me_ for … having a rough time with it, sometimes?  For being jealous and … hurt, because … it’s because I love you so much that it hurts so bad.”

“How much of the time do you feel like that?” Blaine asked sadly.  “I hate to think you’re still hurting because of things I did.”

Kurt shrugged.  “Less and less as time goes on.  I’m so happy with you almost all of the time,” he said. “Please believe that.”

“I want to.”        

Kurt leaned in and kissed Blaine softly on the lips, and when Blaine responded, deepened the kiss, pulled Blaine to sit in his lap.  After a few moments, Blaine dropped his head onto Kurt’s shoulder.  “So, that leaves a big question.  We both want the baby if it’s ours, and we have no way of knowing that until after it’s already here.  But if I have an abortion, we have to live with giving up what might be our only child.  That we both want.”

Kurt felt dampness against his neck, and squeezed Blaine tighter. 

“Yes.  Quite a conundrum,” Kurt agreed.  “I think that we should have the baby, and just … agree that it _is_ ours.”

“Agree … Kurt, we can’t just agree and make something like that real, if it isn’t.”

“Why not?  Listen.  If we don’t ever have the baby tested, then … it’s always possible that it’s mine, right?  That stays always a possibility.”

“Like Schrodinger’s baby,” Blaine said dryly.

“Yes.  Schrodinger’s baby.  Exactly.”

Blaine leaned back slightly and looked into Kurt’s eyes for a long moment.  “You’re serious about this.”

“I am.  I really wanted this baby when I found out, and I still do.”

“Because of Burt?”

Kurt indignantly shook his head.  “I was thrilled when I found out, and that was before I knew about Dad!”  He leaned to the side, grabbing his messenger bag left beside the couch.  He opened it up and grabbed his Dream Book.  “Look.”

“You - - you made this?”

Blaine opened the book on his lap.  He studied the first few pages, full of things Kurt had collected in the few weeks since he had found out about the baby.  Swatches and clippings from magazines, lists and ideas, pictures of cribs and playpens and highchairs, Yelp reviews of pediatricians in the neighborhood.   He had even three-hole-punched and organized brochures for baby activities like Mommy and Me singing group, baby swimming lessons at the Brooklyn YMCA, a toddler commercial acting class at NYADA Extension School.   There was a lot of stuff in there already; Kurt had been so excited about the baby and this had been his outlet, any time he was alone or Blaine was sleeping and he couldn’t stop imagining their future baby.    

Blaine was carefully looking at each item, and Kurt didn’t rush him through it, just let him look at the vision he had for the future with a little one to take care of.  Blaine turned another page.  He smiled, looking down at Kurt’s sketch of the two of them holding a baby, but his eyes clouded over at the page on the other side. 

Kurt bit his lip; it was a family tree with “Baby Anderson-Hummel” written in calligraphy at the bottom, Blaine’s and Kurt’s names on the second level, Burt’s and the rest of their parents and grandparents above that, with a hand-drawn sketch of each face, carefully hand-drawn from memory or their family albums, beside it and fully decorated with branches and leaves.    

“Oh, Kurt, this is so beautiful.  Look at all the work you put into this,” Blaine whispered.  “I wish, so much, that we knew this would be true.” 

“Blaine.”  Kurt kissed the side of Blaine’s face tenderly.  “It _is_ true, no matter what some stupid DNA test would show.  I love you.  I love that baby already,” he said, pointing at the book.  “If we say this is our baby, then it is.  We never have to discuss it again.  Nobody else has to know a thing about it, it’s nobody’s business but ours. I mean, if we had to adopt or use a surrogate, then the baby would still be ours, right? This is the same thing.”  Blaine looked dubious, but Kurt leaned toward him stroking his neck, and murmured in his ear.  “Sweetheart.  We both want this.  Let’s please just decide it’s true.” 

A flush was spreading up Blaine’s skin, and he turned hopeful, shining eyes toward Kurt.   He smiled finally, his eyelashes wet with happy tears, and nodded gratefully.   “If you think so, Kurt then.  Okay, let’s … decide it’s true.”

 


	9. Part Two - Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> getting ready for the delivery

_Six Months Later…._

“And your extra pair of slippers.”  Kurt placed them in a plastic bag and crammed them into the already bulging suitcase.

“Kurt.  I don’t need all this for a hospital stay,” Blaine protested, as Kurt hoisted it off the bed and rolled it over to the door, where two more just like it were standing.  Alongside a trunk.  “I just need my music, my iPad … and you.” 

“You say that now, but you’ll be glad to have your SodaStream there. I know you and your bubbles.”

Blaine rolled his eyes.  “I doubt they’ll even let me have that thing in the hospital, or the mini fridge, but if you insist on pampering me, who am I to discourage you.”

“I just want you to be as comfortable as you can,” Kurt fretted, fussing with the latch on the biggest suitcase.   He felt Blaine’s hand slide down his arm. 

“You’re nervous and worried, and you’re overcompensating.  I would be the same way, if our positions were reversed.”

“Stop talking dirty,” Kurt tried to joke, but it was falling flat.  All c-sections are major surgery, but even more so for men.  He was more than nervous, more than worried.  He was terrified.

“Kurt.  Are you sure you don’t want to call somebody to be there with you?”

Kurt dropped the latch abruptly.  “You’re the one who needs somebody to be there for him.  And that’s my job.  Let me take these down to the cab, it’s waiting.”

“You may need somebody today,” Blaine insisted.  “And there are so many people who love you and would be here for you.  Rachel, or Elliot - - or Mercedes can probably be here in a few hours - -“

“I’ll call them when you’re out of surgery, and they can come see the baby after you’re out of recovery.”

“You’re strong, Kurt, but you don’t have to prove it all the time.”

Kurt avoided Blaine’s big cow-eyes as he picked up the hair care bag he’d packed for Blaine’s post-partum pictures.  He knew Blaine well enough to know that his husband would want to have every hair in place for them.  “Get the door for me?”

“Okay,” Blaine sighed.  He waddled cutely over to the door and opened it.  Kurt kissed him as he passed by and dragged two suitcases behind him.  The truth was, he didn’t know what was going to happen today when he saw the baby for the first time.   Dr. Weber had told him that Blaine would be under general anesthesia for the surgery, and a nurse would carry the baby out of the operating room for him to see in the nursery waiting room. 

Kurt already loved that baby so very much, but … he’d been haunted by the absurd thought of the nurse carrying out a small replica of Dave.  That would be disappointing on a lot of levels … but also … what if other people started questioning it.   It would be like Rachel or Santana to make a comment.  He didn’t want anyone else there, or seeing their baby until after he did, so he could handle it without an audience.  If their baby turned out to look too much like Dave, maybe … maybe he could figure some way to hide the resemblance, or … he gave up as the elevator reached the first floor.  He would worry about that if he had to, later, but for now getting Blaine through this was the most important thing.

He reached the curb and the driver opened the trunk of the cab.  “I thought you wanted to go to Brookdale Hospital?”

“That’s right,” Kurt said, a bit shortly.  “I’ll get the rest of the bags and be back down.”

“The _rest_?”

Kurt ignored him, and headed back into the building.  He rode the elevator up to their floor, and as he walked down the hall, huffed indignantly at the sight of Blaine locking the door behind himself. 

“Blaine, your trunk and the other bag!”

“Honey, please,” Blaine said.  “Thanks for taking good care of me, but really.  I’m going to be in bed for the next week, I don’t need all those changes of clothes and other stuff.  And it’s time to go.  I have to be there by eight o’clock.”

“You’re sure?” Kurt said, slipping an arm around Blaine and supporting him as he walked slowly to the elevator.  He saw it had gone down to the first floor, and pushed the button to return it to their floor.   “There’s only two robes in the bags I took down.”

“You’re ridiculous and I love you,” Blaine smiled. 

“I love you too.  So much.”

The elevator pinged and as it opened, Kurt jumped in surprise.  “ _Dad?”_

“Hey kiddo,” Burt said.  He was thin, painfully so, but smiling.  But as Kurt started toward him for a hug, Burt backed away.  “Not too close.  I’m radioactive,” he joked.  “You guys goin’ somewhere?”


	10. Countdown

“Hey, Burt.  Or should I say Grandpa,” Blaine said with a bright smile.  “We’re going to the hospital for my cesarean.”

“That’s today?  I thought you had at least another two or three weeks to go?”

The door started sliding shut and Blaine reached for it.  “We’ve actually got a cab waiting - -“

“Oh.  Sure.  Um.  Mind if I come along?” Burt asked, still looking puzzled as he followed the pair onto the elevator.

“Of course you can,” Blaine said, shooting a worried look at Kurt. 

The three of them rode down in uncomfortable silence, and went out to the curb.  Kurt opened the door and helped Blaine into the cab.  “Let’s go around, okay, Dad?”  He got into the cab on the other side and scooted over next to Blaine, putting an arm around him protectively.  His father slid into the cab next to him. 

“Okay, all set,” Kurt told the driver, a thin older man who was eyeing the three of them in the rear view mirror with a disapproving look.  “Sir?  Everything all right?”

The cab lurched into traffic suddenly.  Burt grabbed the seat to keep from sliding into Kurt, who said sharply, “Take it easy.  There’s a cancer patient and a and a pregnant person here.”

The driver snorted derisively. 

“Is there a problem?” Kurt snapped.

“Kurt.  Please, don’t make a fuss,” Blaine whispered. 

Burt piped up from Kurt’s other side.  “No, I’m curious too.  You got a problem, buddy?”

“Yeah, I got a problem.  What they’re doing ain’t right,” the driver said.  “And it’s selfish.  A baby’s got a right to a normal family.  Just because you _can_ have a baby doesn’t mean you _should_.”

“What the hell – “ Burt started, but Kurt put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Our baby’s going to have a normal family.  A family is love, and this baby will never lack for that,” Kurt informed the driver.  “The only problem being a child of two men, is dealing with closed-minded bigots like yourself.”

The driver pulled to a stop at a red light.  “I wasn’t talking about that,” he said. 

“You – you weren’t?”

“No.  I’m talking about you two being teenagers.  What makes you think you’re mature enough to be parents.  What are you, sixteen, seventeen maybe?”

Blaine was ducking his head and hiding a smile, and Kurt felt a little deflated at this point.  “I happen to be twenty years old,” he said defensively.  “And married.”

“Oh, well.  Twenty.  That makes a big difference.  Sure, that’s _more_ than old enough to know how to raise a baby,” the driver said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Nobody asked your opinion,” Kurt spluttered.

“Actually, you guys kinda _did_ ask his opinion,” Blaine murmured, patting his knee.  “Let’s just drop it.  I don’t need all this negative energy right now.”  He laid his head on Kurt’ shoulder, and Kurt reached up to cup his face with his hand. 

“You’re right.  Let’s just go get our baby,” he whispered back.

 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kurt bustled around the hospital birthing suite, putting Blaine’s extra pajamas and robe into a nightstand drawer and laying out his toiletries on top of it, in reach of the bed. 

“Man, this is a lot nicer than the maternity ward back in Ohio when you were born,” Burt remarked from his chair in the corner.  “It’s like a hotel.  Anything I can do to help?”

“Just being here is a big help, Dad,” Kurt said automatically. 

“Sure, kiddo.  So … why didn’t you tell me the operation was scheduled for this week?  And isn’t this a little early?”  Burt pulled out a worn-out looking pocket appointment calendar with “Hummel Lube and Tire” printed on its cover, and leafed through it.  “I figured I wouldn’t be meeting my grandchild for at least another two or three weeks.  Isn’t Blaine only about 36 weeks? Let’s see.  You told me about the baby back in - -“

Kurt cut his dad off.  “Male pregnancy is a little different than what you’re used to, Dad, that’s all.”  He centered the pink roses and bluebells he’d had delivered on the windowsill.  When Blaine came back to the room, they’d be the first thing he saw.  

“Really?  It takes less time to make a baby when you’re a guy?  I never heard that - -“

“Dad!”

Burt stopped and looked up from his tattered mini-planner, startled. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt sighed.  “Just a little jumpy.”

“Oh.”  Burt slipped the planner back into his jacket pocket.  “But.  I still don’t get it.  Why didn’t you let me and Carol know before today?”

“I don’t know, Dad.  I guess I didn’t want to trouble you.  You have enough going on.  Radiation once a week, and chemo once a week.  I know it’s been rough.” 

“It’s been hell,” Burt agreed.  “And since I’m doin’ it mainly to get to see your kid, I ask again: why didn’t you tell me? And where’s Blaine’s mom, or any of your friends?  Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Kurt started sweating.

“Kurt, I want the truth.  Is something wrong with the pregnancy?  Is that why they’re doin’ the cesarean early, and why you didn’t call me or anybody else about this?”   

Kurt saw tears in his father’s eyes, and felt sick to his stomach.  “No!  No, Dad, it’s -  that’s not true.  Blaine’s in great health, the baby is doing great.  We just thought we’d wait to tell people, until after everything was settled.”

“You promise?  You’re not just saying that to keep me from worrying?”

“I promise.  And hey, it ended up working out anyway, right?  You’ll be the second family member to see the baby, right after me.  Okay?”

“Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt turned.  A nurse was standing in the doorway.  “They’re done with Mr. Anderson’s pre-op.  He’s asking to see you before they take him down to the OR.”

“Oh my God.  It’s time,” Kurt said. “Dad, I’ll be back in a while, okay?”

“Sure.  Tell Blaine good luck.  Or break a leg or whatever,” Burt joked. 

“I hope not,” Kurt said weakly, trying to smile.  As he followed the nurse out into the hallway, he collected himself as much as possible.  He didn’t want Blaine worrying about him on the way into surgery.  At the end of the hall, there were a row of curtained-off bays, and the nurse led him to one.

“He’s in here.  I’ll give you a couple minutes,” the nurse said kindly.  Kurt nodded and took a deep breath, then opened the curtain with a swish.   Blaine was sitting up in bed, a magazine on his lap.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Kurt said breezily.  He smiled and pulled a chair over next to the bed, as Blaine closed his magazine and tossed it onto the other chair.  An IV was running into Blaine’s arm, and a pulse oximeter was on his finger.   Kurt winced at the bruising on the inside of Blaine’s arm.  He bruised so easily… and an IV would be nothing compared to the incision.  He pasted a smile back on.  “Excited?”

“Yes.  And a little nervous, I guess.” 

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand.  “Don’t be nervous … Dr. Weber’s got this.  And I’ll be right outside the operating room the whole time, I promise.”

“Well.  If you have to go to the bathroom for a _few_ minutes, I’ll be okay, I think.”

“I’m not going to.  I’m wearing a Depends undergarment just in case,” Kurt teased, and felt rewarded to see Blaine chuckling. 

“Gross. When I wake up, I’ll change the _baby’s_ diapers, but you’re on your own, pal,” Blaine laughed.  “Though wait a minute, maybe this could work out - -“

Kurt tugged gently on Blaine’s hair.  “Forget it, perv!  I was _joking._ And it’ll be 50/50 on those diapers.  I’m not going to be a hideous stereotypical dad who won’t change the baby!  Once you get that little one here, we’re going to be equal partners in this from then on.  And speaking of that.  I meant to give you this earlier, but things were a little hectic.”

“What is it?”

“A little present for my baby’s father,” Kurt said.  “You can’t wear it now, but you can see what you’re getting, if you’d like.” 

“Kurt!  You didn’t have to - -“

“Sure I did!  “Push presents” are all the rage with pregnant moms.  I don’t see why you shouldn’t have something, just because you’re having a cesarean.  Do you want to see it or be surprised afterwards?”  He held up a slim box.

Blaine made grabby hands.  “Now.  Present time, now.”

“Okay.”  Kurt handed him the box, and Blaine pulled off the ribbon and opened it, revealing a classically styled platinum watch.

“It’s beautiful,” Blaine breathed.  He turned it over.  “With all our love, Kurt and …”  he looked up, quizzically.

“I’ll take it back to the store later, and have the baby’s name added,” Kurt explained.  “It’s from both of us.”

“Kurt,” Blaine sighed through tears.  “It’s … it’s great.  Thank you so much.  I can’t wait to wear it.”  He sat up and tugged Kurt closer.  “I love you too.”

“Okay, guys,” the nurse said from the curtained entrance.  “Time to go to the OR.”  She came in, brushing past Kurt, and snapped the railings into the up position on the sides of the bed before lowering the head of the bed so Blaine lay flat. 

“Here we go,” Blaine said cheerily as the nurse unlocked the brakes on the hospital bed and began pushing it down the hall. 

Pocketing the gift box with the watch inside, Kurt walked alongside the rolling bed until they reached a set of double doors.  The nurse patted Kurt on the arm. “You can say goodbye now, and then you can wait over there,” she indicated a group of chairs underneath a TV screen.  “When there’s something to report, someone will come out and see you.”

“Wish me luck,” Blaine said. 

“Good luck.  I’ll see you again soon … me and the baby.”

Blaine looked briefly troubled, and Kurt leaned close to him.  “ _Our_ baby,” he emphasized.  Blaine’s face brightened, and tilted up in a wordless demand for a kiss.  Kurt blushed, conscious of the nurse’s tapping foot, but pressed a lingering, soft kiss to his husband’s lips.   And then, so quickly, the doors opened and Blaine was gone, leaving nothing more for Kurt to do but wait.

 

 


	11. Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay there are a number of liberties taken here. I know in real life, fathers can go into the operating room, but let's just say in this AU they don't, and go with it, okay? Thanks and please comment!

The next half hour was the longest of Kurt’s life so far.  He alphabetized and carefully arranged the magazines in the operating rooms’ waiting area, leaving spaces for the issues of “People” and “National Geographic” being read by other family members.  This task done, he sat biting his nails until he tasted blood and his own father gently pulled his wrist away. 

“Here,” Burt said, pressing a bottled water into Kurt’s hand.  “Drink something.  I’d get you some coffee but I think you’re already vibrating.”

Kurt took a sip to placate his father, then put the bottle back in the cooler he had packed for this occasion.  “You’re the one who should stay hydrated,” he told his father, taking out a juice pack.  “And keep your blood sugar up.”  He inserted a tiny straw and handed it to his father, who looked at it in distaste.

“Go ahead.  It’s organic,” Kurt encouraged him.  The double door leading to the operating rooms opened up.  A gowned, masked nurse came out pushing a bassinet on casters, with a tightly swaddled baby inside wearing a pink knitted cap.  All noise stilled in the room as she approached.

“Mr. Gonzales?  Meet your little girl,” she announced, and Kurt slumped.  One of the other waiting men sprang up, dropping the magazine to the floor in his haste, and tripping over it on the way to the nurse. Kurt smiled nervously in congratulations to Mr. Gonzales, and surreptitiously retrieved the crumpled magazine left haphazardly behind, smoothing it out and slipping it into the slot he’d left for “People.”

The minutes continued to creep by as the door opened twice more, again for someone else’s babies, and Kurt felt like every nerve ending in his body was jangling.  He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, then finally started pacing the waiting room, fidgeting with the artificial flower arrangements and straightening the picture frames.  “What’s taking so long?” he moaned.  “Everybody else is gone.”

Burt looked up from “Popular Mechanic”.  “Want to ask somebody?  There’s a nurse at the desk over there.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, let’s go,” Kurt agreed.  They went over and stood patiently at the desk until the nurse looked up from her paperwork. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes.  Well, my husband’s in having a c-section with Dr. Weber.  It’s been over an hour, and all the other surgeries are finished.  I’m just wondering if there’s any way to find out … is there something going on, a problem - -“ he trailed off at the nurse’s disinterested expression.

“What’s your husband’s name, sir?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

The nurse turned and pulled a folder from a clipboard on the desk, checked the name, then flipped it open, looking through it for what felt like about a million years.  “And your name, sir?”

“Kurt Hummel,” he answered desperately.

“Okay, I see the release here,” she murmured, tossing the folder back on the desk.  “Mr. Hummel, the other three c-sections this morning were for female patients.  A c-section for a woman is much simpler than for a man.  I’m sure Dr. Weber told you that.”

“Yes, but I thought we’d hear something by now.  It’s been over an hour.  She said the baby would probably be out within an hour.”

Burt put a hand on his back reassuringly, and added, “Ma’am, this is all new to us … anything you can tell us would be appreciated.”

Kurt realized what a mistake it would have been to try to do this alone, and was grateful his dad had shown up unexpectedly.  He’d been so worried about hiding the truth, but having someone here with him had kept him from going completely crazy.  He gave a quick, appreciative glance in his father’s direction.

“If we don’t get word within another fifteen minutes or so, I can call in to the operating room and see what the hold-up is.  But I’d rather not distract the team if they’re busy in there.  I’m sure you understand.”

Kurt nodded, and silently stumbled back toward the seats.  Burt sat beside him and picked up the remote to the television set, which had been playing ESPN while the other fathers watched.  “How about we try to find something you like, to keep your mind off this for another fifteen minutes?” Burt suggested.

He shrugged helplessly, but nodded.  Burt started flipping through the channels, one after another.  “Here.  Housewives?” he asked.

“No … Blaine and I saw this episode together.”    Or more accurately, they’d watched half of it and got distracted.  It’d been early in their relationship, they were horny high schoolers, and Burt and Carol had gone out to one of Finn’s games for the evening mid-episode.  The show hadn’t been interesting enough to outweigh the temptation, and he didn’t really need the memories the show brought back right now.

Burt switched the channel, quickly changing it again when a surgical show came on.  After flipping through a few more stations, he stopped at Project Runway.  “I remember you watching that guy back in the day, at our house,” he said, pointing up at Tim Gunn.  “How about this one?”

Kurt looked up at it.  It was an early season, one he’d watched in the original run, even before he came out to his father.  Seeing it always brought him back to that confusing time, when he felt like the only gay boy in the entire universe, and when he’d mistakenly thought his father wouldn’t love him anymore if he knew.  That show, about dreamers like himself, taking a shot at a glamorous life and career in fashion, had been a lifeline, and he often copied Tim Gunn’s elegant poses and gestures in those days.  The show always reminded him of one of the few bright spots in his life before Glee Club, and Blaine.

He nodded, trying to focus on the show, and stop thinking for a few minutes.  Surely there would be news in a few minutes.  Good news.  His father took his hand and squeezed it, grounding him while another fifteen minutes went by and the show went to commercial. 

Even as close as he was to a nervous breakdown, he almost laughed aloud when Santana’s Yeast-i-Stat commercial came on.  “Hey, it’s Santana’s commercial!” Burt yelled, pushing his baseball hat back and nudging him.  “She looks great.”

“She sure does.  Flawless.  Like always,” Kurt agreed.  He wished Santana was here, suddenly.  Santana could be unexpectedly kind and supportive, especially when it came to Blaine.  And she probably would have bullied that nurse into getting some actual information by now.  Yep, trying to go this alone had been one of his dumber ideas.  Santana, Brittany and Mercedes were out on tour on the West Coast, and Sam, Mr. and Mrs. Shue, and Carol were in Ohio, so it was too late to call any of them to come.  He toyed with the idea of going down to the lobby to call Rachel and Jesse, or Elliot, who all had been so happy and supportive about the baby.  Or at least to open his cellphone and look at pictures of all his friends from the baby shower Rachel had given them a couple of weeks ago. 

Everyone he or Blaine cared about had been there, and Blaine had sat proudly in Sue's gift, a beautiful rocking chair festooned with pink and blue balloons, 38 weeks pregnant and glowing.  Kurt had lied over and over again about how far along Blaine was and when the baby was due, trying to deflect any speculation about Karofsky.  There were dozens of pictures on his phone of Blaine smiling and excited about the gifts and their baby, and of all their friends tasting baby food and diapering balloons and playing all the other dumb baby shower games Rachel had meticulously planned and forced everyone to partake in.  His hand went to his pocket, but he wasn’t allowed to turn his phone on in here and he couldn’t leave, not now, the nurse could come out any second.

Even Burt was starting to show signs of nerves, and tossed the magazine on the table on top of Kurt’s careful arrangement.  “It’s been over twenty minutes, Kurt.  Do you think we should get that nurse to call in to the OR and find out what’s happening?”

Kurt shook his head, inserting “Popular Mechanic” between “People” and “Redbook”.  “She’s right.  If something’s happening in there that’s bad, I don’t want to be a distraction.  They should focus on - - “ he gasped and clutched at Burt’s arm.

The door had opened from the OR and finally, finally, the nurse was coming out with another wheeled bassinet, walking toward him.  The nurse who had taken Blaine into the OR. 

“Mr. Hummel?”

He was frozen in the chair, his mouth dry. He tried to speak, but …

“You have a little boy.  Congratulations.”  She was walking over to him and positioned the cart in front of him.  “A big boy.  Nine pounds, and in perfect shape.”

“Nine pounds!  A future linebacker!” Burt crowed.  “And he’s early, can you imagine if he wasn’t?  He’d be enormous!” 

The nurse looked quizzically at Burt.  “Early?  But he’s n-”

Kurt shook his head at her and she fell silent.  He managed to find his voice.  “Blaine?”

 “He’s doing fine,” the nurse said.  Kurt closed his eyes and let go of a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding until then.

“Don’t you want to look at the baby?”

Kurt nodded, opening his eyes while taking another deep breath.  He stood up and leaned over the cart, lifting the little boy from his mobile bed. 

“Keep his head supported,” the nurse instructed.  Kurt sat back down with the baby nestled in the crook of his arm and gently removed the little blue knit hat to take a good look.

A sweet, perfectly round little face.  Thick, straight, medium-brown hair standing up on end all over his scalp.  Small ears laid back flat against his head.  The eyes … bluish-gray, but beneath downy-fine, unmistakably triangular eyebrows.  Round eyes, with thick, black curly lashes like Blaine’s.   Eyes looking straight at him.  Straight into his soul.   And a rush of emotion overwhelmed him.

He knew all about love at first sight.  He’d felt another kind once, for this boy’s father.  And this was as sudden and as complete.  “I love you,” he blurted, unable to keep it in. The baby looked solemnly at him and Kurt pressed a kiss to his forehead.  “I love you so much,” he repeated, clasping the little one closer and starting to cry.

His father cleared his throat after a minute.  “Um.  Can I see too?”

“Sure,” Kurt said, wiping his eyes on his own shoulder.  He tilted the baby so Burt could see.  “Isn’t he perfect?”

“He sure is.  I wish I could hold him,” Burt said wistfully.  “My doctors say it’s best I don’t, with the radiation.”

“I’m sorry, Dad –“

“Don’t be.  I’m just so glad to be here to see him.  So … do you guys have a name picked out, or are you still working on it?”

“There was never any question,” Kurt said proudly.  “Meet Burt Anderson Hummel.”

“Oh, Kurt.  Oh, man, you’re makin’ me cry …” Burt said, wiping his eyes.  “But that’s a kind of an old man’s name, don’t you think?  Maybe … I think I’ll call him Andy.”

“Andy,” Kurt tried out.  “I like it.”   

He held little Andy for a few more minutes, humming a lullaby and holding one of his tiny, perfect hands.   The whole world seemed reduced down to just the two of them, in their own little bubble, and he snuggled his little boy contentedly. 

“Mr. Hummel?” the nurse finally said softly. “I’m sorry, but I need to take Andy to the nursery to take care of a few things – blood work, eye drops, that kind of thing.  May I have him for a little while to do that?”

“Okay.  Bye, sweetheart,” Kurt crooned, laying him in the crib.  “You’ll let me have him back right away? I’d like to be the one to feed him.”

“Of course, and we’ll bring you a bottle.”

Kurt looked nervously at the clock.  “How much longer will Blaine be in surgery? It’s already taken so long.”

“The surgery was difficult,” the nurse said.  “Even more than usual, and he’ll be in afterwards a little longer, because of the added experimental procedure.”

“Added - - ?”

“Yes, the salvage.”

Kurt shook his head.  “The what now?  I don’t understand.  Salvage what?”

The nurse settled Andy into the bassinet.  “The pseudo-uterus.  Dr. Weber is trying to develop techniques to salvage the male pseudo-uterus, and reattach the Fallopian tube and valve to the rectum. Blaine agreed to undergo that procedure.  I thought you knew.”

His mouth dropped open.  “I – I had no idea.  I had no idea he would do that.  He didn’t say anything about it to me,” Kurt said, starting to get upset.  “Why wouldn’t he tell me!” he ranted.  “I’ve read Dr. Weber’s research about that.  It’s … it’s too risky!  How could he?”

“Kurt,” his dad started.

“I don’t know why he would agree to experimental surgery!   Why would he do that!” Kurt exclaimed, even as his heart sunk, knowing why.  Knowing that Blaine was taking this risk … because of the possibility that Andy wasn’t … wasn’t both of theirs.  To hold onto a chance to have another baby who was.   He’d thought Blaine understood that no matter what happened, he would love this baby, love Blaine, but obviously, Blaine hadn’t believed it and had decided to do this because he was afraid not to. 

“Oh, Blaine,” he whispered, dropping his head on his hands.  _Why don’t you ever believe how much I love you?_

 

 


	12. Explosions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this one is a bit tough sorry

It was another two hours before those double doors opened again. 

In those two hours, Kurt fed Andy his first bottle.  Burped him for the first time.  Changed his diaper for the first time.  Dressed him in a fresh onesie and swaddled him for the first time.  Swayed around the waiting room until Andy fell asleep, a limp little ragdoll against his shoulder. 

Then changed his diaper the second time.  Fed and burped him for the second time, and paced anxiously around the waiting room, then up and down the halls, humming “Blackbird” until Andy was asleep again.  

And Blaine wasn’t there for any of those firsts.  Kurt stared out the window of the waiting room, rubbing his face against Andy’s downy soft head, waiting, waiting.

Burt shifted in his seat across the room.  “Why not take Andy down to the nursery?  He can sleep down there.  You’ve been sitting here a long time - -“ he started, but Kurt cut him off.

“I can handle taking care of my own child just fine.”

Before Burt could say anything else, the doors to the operating rooms opened.  Dr. Weber, looking exhausted, was coming through, pulling off her surgical cap and handing it to a nurse.  Beside her a hospital bed carried Blaine, covered in a puffy blanket and with tubes and wires all over his face and body.  Kurt had never seen Blaine that motionless, not even in sleep. 

Dr. Weber was heading toward him, squaring her shoulders as if for an unpleasant duty.  Kurt tried not to look at the splatters of blood on her scrubs, even on the covers over her shoes.  Tried not to think.  She looked like a butcher more than a surgeon.  Tried not to freak out, not to picture Blaine’s blood pouring out onto the floor for this woman to step in.  Tried not to be angry.  He needed to be focused right now.

Kurt leaned over the gurney, gripping the rail tightly with one hand while holding Andy cradled in his other arm.  Blaine’s face was white and an oxygen mask was covering his mouth and nose.  “What happened?”

“Take him down to PACU,” Dr. Weber instructed the young man pushing the bed.   Kurt let go of the railing and watched the love of his life be wheeled away down the hall.

“Kurt, let’s have a seat.”   She gestured toward the waiting room, now empty except for his father.

Dr. Weber slumped into a plastic chair with a deep exhale, and Kurt, still with Andy clasped to his chest, sat beside her.  “Dad?”  He didn’t take his eyes off Dr. Weber.  “Could you excuse us for a while, please?”

His father looked nervously between the doctor and Kurt.

“I know you love Blaine too, and you want to know what’s going on, but please, Dad.  Go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat.  You’re due for your midday medications and you can’t take them on an empty stomach.  Get me something, too, I’m … I’m hungry,” he lied, trying to convince his father to leave.  “I promise I’ll come find you as soon as we’re done.”

Burt nodded, slowly, and headed off to the elevator.  Kurt waited until the doors slid shut behind him, and then turned back to Dr. Weber.  “The nurse told me Blaine was getting a salvage operation.  What … what happened in there?  Did something go wrong?” 

Dr. Weber looked as if she’d aged five years since he’d seen her last.  “It’s very delicate surgery … a lot of vascular work.  There were … a lot of complications.  A lot of bleeding, and the repair of the valve failed. I had to call in a colorectal surgeon to help repair some damage to the rectal area from the salvage attempt.  He created a colostomy - - “

“Oh, my God,” Kurt breathed.  “A colostomy bag?  My nineteen-year-old, _perfectly healthy_ husband, has to - - he has to go to the bathroom out a tube in his stomach, into a _bag_?”

Dr. Weber rubbed her hands tiredly.  “It’s just temporary.  It’s to divert the fecal contents until the area heals, and we can go back in and - -“

“Hold it.  Go _back in_?  More surgery?  Is that what you’re telling me? Or a colostomy bag for life, that’s his options?”

“It’s - - it’s a risk of the procedure.  Blaine was fully informed of that risk. And of the risk that the operation would fail.

“I've been meaning to ask about that,” Kurt said.  “When the hell did you have that discussion?  I went to every appointment.  This never came up when I was there.”

“I called and asked Blaine about a month ago, whether he’d be interested in trying to salvage the male carrier organs, rather than simply remove them.  I explained that it’s developing technology, experimental.  That it could mean a big advance in androcology, and the possibility that not just him, but other carrier men could have more than one baby.  He was interested.”

“Interested in being your lab rat?”

“No!” Dr. Weber snapped back.  “He wanted to be able to have another baby, it was important to him!”

“And you also knew our ‘situation,’ not knowing if I’m the biological father.  You knew he’d be more likely to go along with this crazy experiment because of that.  You exploited him,” Kurt accused.

“That’s not true!  Yes, of course, Blaine really wanted to be able to have another baby with you. After all, if he hadn’t, there’d be no reason to have the reversal. But he knew the risks, he _did_.  I told him that it might not work - - that it would raise his risks of complications - -“  She finally looked at Kurt, her face pleading.  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.  But even though it didn’t, and Blaine can't carry another baby, what I learned from this procedure _can_ help other patients.  That’s how medicine advances.”

He shook his head in disgust.  “Isn’t the first rule of medicine, _do no harm,_ though, doctor?  You shouldn’t have done this.  You knew that, and that’s why you didn’t include me in the discussion.”

“You’re not the patient,” Dr. Weber spluttered.  “Blaine didn’t want you to know, and I didn’t have any legal right to tell you against his wishes.”

Kurt laid his cheek against Andy’s sleepy head for a moment. “Legal right, maybe.  How about moral?  As our baby’s other parent, as his husband, don’t I have any right to voice an opinion?  And how could you take a risk with your patient’s health like this, after losing your own father?”

The shot hit home.  She looked like someone had punched her in the stomach, and Kurt almost felt bad for her.  But then she ruined it. 

She stood up, her lips pressed together, and muttered, “If people had studied androcology and pushed for advances years ago, my father would still be alive.” 

Kurt looked away, shifting the baby on his shoulder, and shut his eyes to try to calm down.  Berating this doctor was doing nobody any good.  But there was something he needed to know, and Blaine might not admit the truth when they talked about this. 

“Did he say why he didn’t want me to know?” he asked, softly.

Dr. Weber faltered. “He didn’t want you to worry.”

The anger rose up in him again, in a heated rush. 

“And you didn’t want me to talk him out of it.  Did you, doctor?”  He glared at her, angrier than he ever remembered being.  He didn’t know if all the anger was really at Dr. Weber, but he did know that he couldn’t blame Blaine.  He couldn’t.  He loved him too much, and he knew Blaine had only good motives.  And Blaine would be the one paying the biggest price.

“I don’t think there’s much point in prolonging this right now, Kurt.”  Dr. Weber looked at the clock over the nurse’s station.  “I’m exhausted, and Blaine will be in the PACU until he’s stabilized.  Hopefully, that will be in a few hours.  Then, he’ll be transferred to the ICU.  While he’s in the ICU, his medical care will be managed by the intensivists here at the hospital.  The colorectal surgeon will discuss reversal of the colostomy, once the … the area is healed.”

“I see,” Kurt said grimly.  “Well, I guess I’d better go up there and wait for him to wake up.  He’ll want to see our baby right away.”

“The baby can’t go to PACU or ICU,” Dr. Weber said, wincing.  “I’m sorry, Kurt.”

So that was that.  Blaine wouldn’t hold his baby, or even see him in person, until he was out of ICU, whenever that would be. 

It would break Blaine’s heart. 

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 _Six Weeks Later_.

Today was the big day.  When Blaine would meet his little boy in person for the first time, and Kurt had dressed little Andy in his finest for the occasion, from the tiny faux bowtie to his argyle sweater, all the way down to his brightly-colored socks and utterly useless but adorable black loafers.  Andy looked perfect.  Kurt could only hope that today would be a good day for Blaine, or at least that seeing Andy would raise Blaine’s spirits.

Blaine had been very weak and sick, and contracted a MRSA infection shortly after the surgery.  He was in isolation on heavy-duty antibiotics for ten days, then, when his cultures and blood work were clear for long enough, moved to the ICU for a while.  Today, he was finally well enough to move to a regular hospital room, physically on the mend but with greater and greater concern over his mental state. 

The doctors had explained as Blaine’s illness subsided but his mood and energy level remained low, that post-partum depression was a significant problem in men, with a greater risk of actual full-blown post-partum psychosis than women, along with more problematic mood swings and outbursts.   With Blaine’s history of depression, the stress of the delivery and his illness, he was at particular risk.  It was hard to tell how much of the change in his personality was due to lingering physical pain and fatigue, and how much was a true psychiatric condition.  But there was no doubt: Blaine was not yet himself again, whatever the cause.  

Kurt pushed the stroller, carefully zipped up to avoid germs from passersby, down the hallway and reached Blaine’s new room.  The door was open, and he cautiously rapped on it.  “C’mon in!” an unfamiliar voice called out.  Kurt pushed the stroller into the room, and smiled politely at the man in the bed nearest the door. 

“I’m here to see Blaine Anderson … this is his room, isn’t it?” Kurt asked.

The man nodded.  “Oh, he’s here, but … “ he inclined his head. “I haven’t heard much from him since he came in a couple hours ago.”

The other half of the hospital room was encircled by a curtain on rings.  The lights over that part of the room were off.  Kurt squared his shoulders and pushed the stroller over to the curtain.  “Blaine?  Are you awake?  There’s somebody here who’d love to meet you.”

When there was no answer, Kurt looked nervously at the other patient, then pulled the curtain away from the wall a few inches, peering in.

Blaine was lying on the hospital bed staring vacantly out the window.  The TV was off and pushed out of the way.  The magazines and books Kurt had brought in, along with Blaine’s iPad, were sticking out of a drawer by the bed.   And Blaine looked like he had been living on the street, unshaven and his hair a mass of tangled, matted curls. 

“Hi,” Kurt tried again, leaning down to unzip the stroller.  Andy looked up at him.  As he had gotten older, his eyes had changed to golden-brown like Blaine’s, and the little darling smiled a new, toothless smile that otherwise was so much like Blaine’s it hurt Kurt’s heart and warmed it all at the same time.   “Time to meet your daddy,” he told him.  Andy smiled even bigger at the sight of him, and as always, Kurt’s heart burst with love for his boy.

He lifted the baby from the stroller, and carried him over to the bed.  “Blaine.  Here’s Andy, honey.  Won’t you sit up and take a look?”

Blaine’s eyes shifted wearily to the baby for only a moment before they clouded again. 

Kurt pulled up a chair and sat near Blaine’s head, holding the baby so Blaine could see if he wanted to, but Blaine gave no sign of interest.  Andy reached his hands toward Kurt’s face, and Kurt pulled a small stuffed rabbit to distract him.  “He’s so excited to see you,” Kurt tried.  “He’s smiling now.  He - -“

Kurt trailed off at the sight of Blaine wincing and shutting his eyes.

“Blaine, I know you’ve had a hard time.  I know that.  But please look at our baby,” Kurt said, his voice cracking with frustration.  “I’ve had to do everything since he was born, and you won’t even - -“

“You _got_ to do everything.  I missed everything.  And it’s over, I can’t ever get that time back,” Blaine spat, sitting up suddenly.

Kurt was surprised, but almost glad to see a reaction, even if it was a bizarre mood swing.  Blaine had barely reacted to anything in what seemed like forever.  It was a relief to at least get him talking.

“I know that,” he said.  “But you have a chance to see him now, and you’re wasting it, throwing it away!” Kurt bit his lip.  Maybe it was time for some tough talk.  “Listen.  I know … I know you can’t help how you’re feeling.  But most of our problems have been from not talking, not being honest, so - -“

Blaine’s eyes blazed.  “You mean most of our problems have been my fault, and this is my fault, right?” he gestured at his colostomy bag and IV.  “I mean, of course!  Nothing’s ever your fault! Saint Kurt!   How do you even put up with me?”

“I didn’t say that!  But okay, let’s go there,” Kurt snapped back.  He was tired.  Tired of late-night feedings all alone, worrying about Blaine, about his Dad, about Andy, talking to oncologists and pediatricians and psychiatrists and surgeons, and everyone depending on him.  Who did he have to turn to?  He felt the anger bubble up and over.  “What on earth were you thinking, having that stupid surgery in the first place?  Didn’t you think about me, about Andy, at all?”

“You know why I did it.  To try to fix things,” Blaine shouted.  Andy jumped a little in Kurt’s arms.

“There wasn’t anything to fix!  I told you that!  A million times, what do I have to fucking do to get you to start believing in us, Blaine?  And keep you from going off and doing shit because you have no faith in me, in us?”

“How about doing what you say?  Keeping your promises?  You talk big, Kurt, but then time goes by - -“

Furious, Kurt stood up and started toward the door, dragging the stroller behind him.

“There you go, just like always,” Blaine shouted.  Kurt froze, and turned around to face Blaine, to hear what he had to say.

Blaine was standing beside the bed, hunched over with pain.  “We’ll Skype every day, Blaine, really!”   he mocked, imitating Kurt’s voice cruelly.  “Then you hang up while I’m saying I love you!  I forgive you, Blaine,” he ranted, his voice rising.  “I'll marry you!  But then you dump me like it meant nothing to you.”  He pointed at Kurt.  “How did I know you wouldn’t decide you _couldn’t_ handle it if this is our only child, and it’s not yours?  Because you _promised?_   Don’t make me laugh!”

“Get back in bed,” Kurt tried to calm him down.  The colostomy bag was askew and leaking liquid stool down the leg of Blaine’s pants.  Kurt winced; he couldn’t bear to see his immaculate, dapper Blaine like this, messy, screeching like a lunatic - - “You don’t mean any of this - - you know I love Andy and it doesn’t matter if- -"

“Bullshit!   If it doesn’t matter, then have a DNA test!” Blaine yelled. 

Kurt felt the blood drain from his face, and his mouth go dry.  He couldn’t think of an answer, but he had to get out of here.  He couldn’t have this argument.  He couldn’t deal with it, and Andy was crying now - - he turned tail and started walking, fast, out the door and into the hall.  Blaine’s nurse was approaching, her face grim.

“Yeah, I thought so.  Don’t care.  Right,” Blaine called after him.  Kurt’s heart dropped when he heard a crash behind him, and Blaine was in the doorway, the IV disconnected and blood dripping from his hand.  The nurse reached him and put her hand on his arm.  Blaine flinched away.

“Blaine, go back to bed,” he choked out, backing away toward the elevator with a now purple-faced, screaming Andy clasped in his arms. 

“Don’t take my son out of here,” Blaine screamed back, starting toward him.  Kurt turned again and fled, dimly registering the words “CODE GREEN” being shouted and security materializing around them as if by apparition.  He reached the elevator and started stabbing the buttons, the doors sliding open just as two security guards approached Blaine.  As he stepped in, he pleaded again, “Blaine, please calm down,” just as Blaine shoved a guard away desperately.  The guard slipped and fell to one knee.  Kurt saw Blaine’s eyes widen in horror, saw Blaine turn to try to help him up … and the other guards converged on his small, weakened husband … and the doors closed as he watched, helplessly, a nurse jabbing a needle into Blaine’s arm.

 

 

 


	13. No Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh oh

Kurt pushed the stroller quickly out of the elevator, making a break for the lobby as Andy continued wailing, and was confronted by his father wearing his brand new “#1 Grandpa” baseball cap, and Kurt’s friend Rachel carrying a bright pink teddy bear dressed as Barbra Streisand.  “Kurt!” Rachel exclaimed, before turning her full attention to the baby.

“Hey, little guy,” she cooed.  She waved the stuffed animal above Andy.  “Why so sad?”  She took him from Kurt's arms handing off the Barbra Bear.  "Come to Aunt Rachel," she said, rubbing his back.  Not at all oblivious to the stares of the staff and patients milling around, she started singing the middle verse of "Lullaby of Broadway" while smiling down at him.  Incredibly, Andy started to settle, with an odd pucker between his slanted eyebrows, fascinated as always, whether it was by her beautiful, if loud voice, or her big eyes and funny expressions, Andy adored his Aunt Rachel.   After finishing up with "listen to the lullaby of Old Broad-Way!" Rachel gave Andy a snuggling kiss.  “I came to visit your daddy, and ran into your grandpa on the way in,” Rachel explained to the baby, speaking to him as if they were the same age.  

Looking up, Rachel smiled at Kurt, but then her face fell.  “Kurt - - have you been crying?”

Burt had already been staring Kurt down during Rachel's performance.  “What’s going on, Kiddo?  Is Blaine okay?”

“He’s.  He’s really not,” Kurt admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and trying to hold in the tears.  “And neither am I.”

 

 

Kurt sat slumped on the park bench, listless and defeated, Andy finally calmed in the stroller on one side, his Dad seated on the bench on his other side.   

“There’s no problem that ice cream can’t make at least a little better.  How about I get us all some?” Rachel offered.  “There’s a vendor over there.”

Kurt looked askance at the stand.  “That’s Dippin Dots.  That’s barely ice cream … not worth the calories.”

“C’mon, live a little, Kurt.  It’ll remind you of the mall in Lima.  You used to get a Cotton Candy, right?”

“You and Blaine were the ones who liked Dippin Dots.   I just went along with it.” Kurt shrugged.  “But I’ll split something with you, I guess.”  He stared at the ground.  “For old times’ sake.”

“Mr. Hummel?” Rachel chirped.

“Make mine strawberry,” Burt said, putting his hand in his jacket and pulling out a five dollar bill.  “This should cover it.”

“In Ohio, maybe,” Kurt muttered.  “That’ll get you an empty cup here in New York.”

“It’s my treat, Burt,” Rachel insisted, waving away the money and trotting down the street.

Kurt checked on Andy.  The crying fit seemed to have exhausted him, and he was zonked out, Barbra Bear snuggled next to him.  Kurt tipped up the cover on the stroller to keep the sun off his face and let him rest. 

“I know things seem really grim right now, Kurt.”

He hadn’t realized his hand was balled in a fist beside him until he felt his dad’s hand close over it.

“Life can really kick your ass sometimes.  I guess I don’t have to tell you that.  Lost your mom.  Your brother.  Me with cancer _twice_ like an idiot - -”

“No offense, Dad, but your pep talks need a lot of work.”

“I’m just sayin’.  I won’t blow smoke up your ass here.  You’ve had it rough.  I’ve had it rough.  Carole’s had it rough.  But … life keeps going on all the time.   Yeah, you’re worried about me and Blaine.  But you have to take joy where you can.  Like Andy there.  Remember that.”  Burt got a faraway look in his eyes.  “Having you to take care of was the whole reason I kept going after.  You know.”

“Mom,” Kurt finished for him.  “I know.  I am happy about Andy.  I … just can’t help wanting Blaine to be here to share it with me.  I never quite realized before.  How hard it must have been for you.”   He turned and checked on Andy again.  

“It has its rewards,” Burt said, leaning around Kurt to look at his grandson.

Reaching into the carriage to adjust the blanket, Kurt smiled, finally, and nodded.  “That it does.” 

“Kurt?  Hey man!” a husky male voice yelled out. 

Kurt froze at the sound of that too-familiar Ohio-accented voice.  

He didn’t need to look up to recognize it.  He’d only heard it a hundred times right before his head hit a locker, or a slushy went up his nose and down his carefully-selected ensemble back in high school.

That voice had called him a million filthy names over weeks and months and years, insulted and mocked him  over and over again, breaking him down, finally.  That voice even threatened to kill him once.  Kurt had believed Dave when he said that, and had lived lost in a lonely haze of fear because of it.

But even back then, he had never been so deathly afraid as he was at this moment. 

 

 

 

 


	14. Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I hated Dave Karofsky before season six, but have a bit of a soft spot for him in season six because he was so good for Blaine. That said, this chapter is written from Kurt's point of view, so it is not kind to Dave. :)

“I can’t believe it!  Running into you in the middle of Brooklyn!” Dave exclaimed, all smiles.  He looked at Burt for a second time, seemingly confused.  “Mr. Hummel?”

“Dave Karofsky,” Burt said coolly.  “Yeah.  It’s me.  Lost a bit of weight, but still me.”

“I – yeah, you look good,” Dave stammered, and Kurt’s lip curled in contempt.  His father looked like a cancer patient, he didn’t look _good_.  _This idiot,_ he seethed. 

The idiot kept talking, or more precisely babbling.  “Mr. Hummel … well, I know Kurt and I have mended fences.  But I never got a chance to tell you, how sorry I am about everything that went down.”

Burt smiled and blinked slowly at him, not lending a helping hand.   “ _Went down_?  Interesting way of putting it.  I suppose you mean when you threatened my son’s life and tormented him so bad I had to pull him out of school for half his junior year?”

“Yeah.  Um.  That.  But, like I said - -“ Dave looked desperately at Kurt as if for help.  “Me and Kurt worked that out.  I was feeling pretty bad back then - - and it’s no excuse, but I took it out on Kurt, and I’m really sorry about that.”

“I know my _son_ forgave you for that.  Don’t expect me to,” Burt said, steel in his tone, and he started to try to push himself to a stand. 

“Dad.  It’s … okay.  Dave’s right.  We made our peace about all that a long time ago.  But, Dave, listen - - my dad’s been ill, and if you don’t mind, maybe we can cut this short - -“

Dave had been nodding sadly along with Kurt, but then his gaze shifted slightly to the stroller.  “Hey.  Who’s this?” he asked suddenly.  He started toward the stroller, and it was Kurt who stood up this time, smoothly and quickly, blocking his path. 

Reaching behind him, he pulled the stroller’s cover down all the way, and managed a friendly smile.  “Just a baby I’m watching for the afternoon.  My drama professor has an audition, and, well, brownie points, ya know? But don’t wake him, okay, he’s been cranky all day without his mom and I just got him settled down.”

Kurt had always thought of Dave as a stupid, ignorant, uncultured swine in high school.  He’d learned that Dave wasn’t quite the dumbbell that he’d always assumed, that he was a decent student, especially in math and history, but still, not normally overburdened with perception and a bit of a goofball at his best.  But those math skills worried Kurt, and the slightly confused look on Dave’s face worried him more. 

“Babysitting …?” Those small, piggish eyes flickered to Burt, and Kurt’s heart stopped, just as Rachel arrived somehow balancing three dishes of Dots.

“Okay, the cure for what ails you - - “ she stopped short and stared openly at Dave.  “Dave … Dave Karofsky?  But you’re in Ohio!”

She handed the cup of pink dots to Burt, who took it and set it on the bench beside him. 

“I’m in town for the weekend,” Dave said.  “Visiting a guy I met after …” he trailed off. “How’s Blaine?”

“He’s great,” Kurt snapped.  “We’re married now, you know.”

“Yeah,” Dave said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.  “I heard about the big gay double wedding. That was.  _Sudden_.”

Kurt deliberately infused as much smugness as possible into his own voice, determined to piss this asshole off and get rid of him.  “Not really.  We’ve been in love for years.”  He flicked a non-existent bit of lint from his sleeve and straightened his cuff. 

“I get it.  And I’m just a bump in the road of your big romance, right?”

Kurt shrugged.  “You said it, I didn’t.  But we’re in a bit of a hurry, we’ve got to get the baby back to his mom.  Her audition should be over by now.”  He glanced over at Rachel subtly, and she nodded back, silently agreeing to follow his lead.

“Rachel, tell Dave here how simply _impossible_ our drama teacher is, and how much trouble we’ll get in if we bring her son back late.”

Rachel blinked, but then recovered entered into the improv instantly.  “Oh yes.  She’s in the right field all right!  Drama!  We’d better get going.  Let’s take our ice cream to go!”

Kurt took the dripping ice cream from her and set it in the cup holder in the stroller’s handle.   “I’ll try to remember to pass on your good wishes to Blaine,” he said airily.   “But don’t expect to hear from him.  He … _regrets_ that whole … _episode_ so.  Thinks it’s best to just.  You know.  Put it in the past.  Clean break and all that.”

“Fine,” Dave steamed.  “I just told you I’m here seeing a guy myself!”

“Good for you!” Kurt sneered.  “I’m sure he’s fabulous.  Good luck with that and I won’t be seeing you.”  He helped his father to a stand and whirled the stroller around, stalking off with as much disdain as possible, with his father and Rachel struggling to keep up with him.  As soon as they were out of earshot, though, their breathless voices caught up with him.

“We are _so_ talking about this, Kurt Hummel!” from Rachel, and “Kiddo.  We got to talk”, in stereo, from behind him.

 


	15. Brass Tacks

Soon enough the four of them were in Rachel’s nearby apartment, gathered around her kitchen table shoveling cookies into their mouths.  Well, all but one small gentleman who was lying in the Pack-and-Play his Aunt Rachel kept in the apartment for his convenience, mouthing at his own fingers.

“So.  Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,” Burt said, spraying crumbs on Rachel’s clean table.   “Is … is Andy Dave’s son, Kurt?” Burt asked, a catch in his voice. 

Kurt stiffened.  “He’s my son. Mine and Blaine’s.”

“Why did you act like that with Dave, then?”

Rachel turned big serious eyes on him.  “Kurt.  It was obvious you were trying to keep Dave from even seeing Andy.  Why would you, if he’s not the father?”

“Because I don’t know for sure,” Kurt finally broke down.  “I don’t know if Dave is the biological father or if I am.  But I’m his father in every way that counts.”  Seeing their dubious faces, he slammed his fist down on the table, making them both jump in surprise.

“I’m the man who loves Andy’s father.  Who Andy’s father loves and wants to be with.  Blaine and I decided to go through with the pregnancy together.  I was there the day he was born, every day since then, and I’ll be there for him every day the rest of his life.  That’s what a family is, what a father is.  Dave is _nothing_.  I don’t care if he did provide the genetic material or not, it doesn’t change anything.”

“So … have you gone for testing to see - -“

“You’re not listening, Dad!  I’m his father no matter what any test might say!”  Kurt stopped and covered his eyes with his hand.  “But if there’s proof that he – that he’s biologically Dave’s.  And if Dave gets wind of it.  He might try to come between us.”

“Nothing could come between you and Blaine ever again, least of all Dave Karofsky,” Rachel assured him.  “Blaine adores you.”

Kurt shook his head.  “I mean between me and Andy.  Blaine is so sick right now.  He can’t take care of Andy, and he can’t fight for him if – if Dave tries to get visitation rights or worse, custody.”

Burt looked troubled.  “You think he might do that?  Try to take Andy away?”

“I … I doubt it.  He’s a twenty-year-old jock, he probably has no interest in being responsible for a baby.  But he might very well want visitation, and I don’t want to share Andy with him, especially hundreds of miles away in Ohio.  I don’t want Andy to have a relationship with Dave going forward.  I just want him out of our lives so Blaine and Andy and I can be a family, just the three of us.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

“I suppose you think I should find out the truth, and if Dave’s the dad, be honest with him,” Kurt finally said.

“I don’t know,” Burt said.  “Honesty is usually the best policy.  And if Dave is Andy’s father, they both have the right to know that, to know each other.”

Rachel had a faraway look in her eyes.  “Speaking as someone who didn’t get to know her real mother until I was sixteen, I agree with that.  Not knowing where you come from, it’s like a piece of you is missing.  And Kurt.  A lot of people know about Dave and Blaine, and … well let’s just say there’s some speculation.”

“So people are gossiping about us?” Kurt said bitterly.  “Who?  Who’s said something?”

“Santana. Quinn. Mercedes. Even Mr. Schue.  Everybody knows and can count, Kurt.  And even if none of them ever says anything, the truth has a way of coming out.  It could be a bad shock for Andy if he finds out from someone else.”

Burt nodded.  “I think you need to know the truth one way or another, Kurt. And there’s medical reasons to know.  I hate to say it, but … well, your mom died of cancer.  I’ve had it twice.  Like I’ve told you, you’re going to have to start getting screened a lot younger than most people.  So will Andy, if he’s a Hummel.  If he’s not, he won’t need all that testing until he’s older.”

“Kurt, I always knew, deep down, that Hiram … isn’t my bio-dad,” Rachel said.  “I never loved him less because of that.”

“I never knew that.  How’d you find out which was the sperm donor?” Kurt asked gently. 

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?  Hiram’s way too tall to be my father.”

After another pause, and an exchange of amused looks with Burt, Kurt changed the subject. “Anyway.  What you both say makes a lot of sense, it’s all perfectly logical, but, still.  I’m afraid.  I admit it.  I’d rather live in uncertainty than confirm something I don’t want to face.  At least for now.”

He turned to his father.  “Do you see that right now, there’s no hurry to find out for medical reasons?  Andy is perfectly healthy, the pediatrician says so.”

Burt shrugged.

“And you love Hiram just as much as LeRoy, because you grew up being raised by both of them,” he pointed out to Rachel, who nodded, owl-eyed, at him. 

“Worst case scenario, Dave and his family try to take Andy away from us.  He ends up bouncing back and forth between two families, between the Midwest and New York?  That can’t be good for a baby.  Babies need routine, stability, security.  And once Blaine is well enough to come home?  We’re married … well, then there’s no judge in the world who would take Andy away from a stable home with two parents.  We’d be on much better grounds to fight Dave for custody if – if it comes to that.  Please just don’t say anything to anyone about this, until Blaine is well.  Please.”

It was a long speech, and he was a little breathless by the end of it.

Burt sighed and shook his head.  “I don’t personally agree with this, Kiddo.  I think it’s a time bomb that is just waiting for the fuse to get lit, and it’s better to just come clean.  But just know something.”

“What, Dad?”

A slow smile spread over Burt's face.  “No matter what you decide, I’m behind you guys.  I love you and Blaine, and I’ll support whatever you do.   And -- I’ll love Andy no matter what.  He’s my grandson and nothing will change how I feel about him.  You got that?”

“Got it,” Kurt smiled, getting up and hugging his dad in one arm, while Rachel jumped up and hugged them both.  Kurt sighed in relief, this bullet dodged for the time being.

 

 

 


	16. Determination

Laden down with fresh magazines, a box of cronuts, a bag of toiletries, and a bouquet of roses, Kurt headed determinedly back toward his husband’s room.  He nodded and smiled at Blaine’s roommate, who lifted a hand but looked dubiously at the drawn curtain around the other bed.  Kurt squared his shoulders and managed to free a couple of fingers to pull the curtain aside.

Blaine was unconscious or asleep, but his wrists were encircled by pale blue fabric cuffs, buckled on with white straps tied to the sides of the bed. 

“The hell…” Kurt breathed, setting down the gifts he’d brought, and leaned over the bed worriedly.  Blaine opened his eyes, but only half-way, as if it were too hard to open them fully.   “Blaine, can you hear me?”

“Sorry.  Sorry I was bad,” Blaine croaked, so low Kurt could barely hear it.  Kurt set his jaw and grabbed the call-bell positioned near Blaine’s bound right hand, jabbing the button angrily with his thumb and dropping it.

“Let me get these off you, you shouldn’t be tied up like this, it’s not right - -“ Kurt loosened the buckle on the right wrist restraint, slipping it off and massaging Blaine’s arm softly.  “Is that better?  You – you sound like your throat is dry.  How about some water?  I’ll put the bed up a little so you can drink, okay?”  He quickly poured some water from the bedside pitcher with one hand while pressing the control to raise the head of the bed.  He sat down and tore open a paper straw, placing it in the cup.

“Here,” he whispered gently.  “Take a sip.”  He placed the straw between Blaine’s parted lips, and met Blaine’s dull, empty eyes.  “You need to stay hydrated,” he faltered.

The nurse arrived, pulling back the curtain with a swish.  “You must be Mr. Hummel,” she remarked.  Moving briskly around the bed, she unhooked the other restraint.  “If you’re here, he doesn’t need these,” she explained. 

“Why does he need them at all?” Kurt asked, setting the drink down.  “He’s barely conscious.  What’s going on?”

“Well, he was put in restraints after the incident this morning.  Mr. Hummel, he pulled out his hep lock and dislodged his ostomy tube, and pushed a security guard.  Luckily he’s fine, but - -“

“He – he didn’t mean to hurt that man.  Please understand he was just - -“ Kurt trailed off at the patient, but condescending look she gave him. 

“Nobody thinks he meant to hurt anyone, Mr. Hummel.  But he could have.  The reason he’s still in restraints is that he’s on a new medication and we’re observing how he responds.  It has a sedating effect for many people at first.  We don’t want him trying to get out of bed and falling, or pulling on his tubes.  They’re loosened every fifteen minutes, and as I said, if you’re in here keeping an eye on him he doesn’t need to be in the wrist ones.”

Kurt looked down for the first time at Blaine’s feet, and winced to see straps tying his legs to the bed as well.  “This just seems a bit excessive,” he tried. 

The nurse shrugged.  “The psychiatrist ordered it for his safety, sir.  It’s a good sign that he accepted the new medication once his emergency injection wore off.  And he didn’t fight the restraints, either, which is also a good sign.  Very likely he’ll adjust to the medication within a day or two and be feeling much better. Okay?”  She eyed the box of cronuts.  “Just so you know, his lunch tray is here.  He may need help eating … do you want to feed him?”

Kurt nodded, swallowing hard.  “I’ll help him, of course.”

The nurse nodded and bustled off, and Kurt sat on the side of the bed, rubbing Blaine’s arm.  “You want to try feeding yourself?” he tried, pulling the tray over and lifting the lid.  “Chicken soup,” he observed.  “Not like yours, but that probably’s expecting too much for hospital food.”  He opened the milk carton, and took the spoon and dipped it in the soup.  “Here,” he said, nudging Blaine’s arm.  “Wanna try?”

Blaine’s eyes seemed to try to focus, and the right hand lifted, trying to take the spoon, but he couldn’t seem to grip the utensil. 

“You’ve always had no tolerance.  Lightweight,” Kurt softly tried to tease.  “Okay, I’ll feed you.”

The roommate turned on his television low.  Sounded like CNN.  Kurt was encouraged when Blaine opened his mouth obediently and took the spoonful of soup.  Their eyes met and Kurt smiled, taking another spoonful from the paper cup.  “That’s a good boy,” he murmured, just like he did when giving Andy his bottle.  Blaine didn’t smile, not really, but he looked like he was trying to.

They worked their way slowly through the soup, while the announcer droned on in the next cubicle. 

“Just a little bit more,” Kurt encouraged him, but Blaine put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Andy?” he whispered, his eyes drooping.  “Is he all right?”

Kurt set the paper cup on the tray and smoothed the hair back on Blaine’s head.  “He’s fine.  He’s safe,” he soothed, watching Blaine drift off still sitting up. 

“And I’ll keep him safe.  No matter what I have to do.”

 

 


	17. Part Three -- New Beginnings

_Five years later_

 

Kurt handed the key to Andy, who proudly inserted it in the lock and turned.  The little boy opened the door and ran in, tossing the key in the bowl by the door and dragging a shopping bag behind him.

“Papa! We’re home!” he shouted excitedly.  “We got everything on the list!”

“That’s great buddy!” Blaine called from the kitchen.  “Dinner’s almost ready, your timing is impeccable.”

Kurt shut the door to the apartment as Blaine came out of the kitchen wiping his hands on a dishtowel.  Andy gave a running leap up into Blaine’s outstretched arms for a big hug.

“Daddy checked everything off,” Andy explained gravely, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and brandishing it in front of Blaine’s face.

“Just in the nick of time,” Kurt said, emptying the bag of supplies onto the table.  “Now let’s get off to a good start with kindergarten, Andy.  Can you get the label-maker?”  

“Sure, Daddy!” Blaine set Andy down so he could trot off to the corner workspace in the living room and rifle through the desk for the label-maker. 

“What’s the damage?” Blaine whispered to Kurt.  “That was quite a list.” 

Kurt pulled Blaine to him for a kiss, tracing his hand down the side of Blaine’s face before answering.  “$150,” he murmured grimly.  “Not counting that fancy back pack you got him, or the school uniforms.  Or the tuition.  Which considering how high that was, you’d think they’d include a few supplies.”

“Seriously.”   Blaine deepened the kiss while Andy’s back was still turned.  The moment was only just that, a moment, though, before Andy bellowed, “Got it!” and scampered back over to them. 

“Here Daddy!  Label my stuff! Label it!” he crowed, flinging himself down on the couch and looking excitedly at all his fresh new school supplies.

Kurt gave a final slap to Blaine’s backside as they reluctantly separated.  “Coming, son.”  He sat on the couch next to Andy and took the label maker the boy jabbed toward him, turning it on and starting to type in “Andy Hummel”. 

“Papa, look at all my stuff.  It’s all red!”  Andy demanded, bouncing up and down on the couch beside Kurt.

“Your favorite color,” Blaine remarked.  “Nice.”  Blaine sat on the other side of Andy and obediently examined the red wide-rule composition notebooks and plastic folders, the red pencil case and lunchbox, the crayons and colored pencils and glue sticks and other ephemera deemed essential by the school’s admission letter.

Blaine reached under the coffee table and pulled out Andy’s back pack, bright red like everything else Andy had chosen, and with “ANDY” embroidered in white letters on the back.  “Let’s get everything in here so you’ll be all ready for the first day at Harvey Milk Elementary School tomorrow.”

“Good idea, Papa,” Kurt agreed, sticking a label on the pencil box and handing it to Andy.  “Go ahead and put the glue sticks in the pencil case, okay?” 

“Let’s label them first,” Andy said, picking up the glue sticks and tearing the package open.

“I don’t know if we need to label everything, kiddo, just the pencil case and - -“ Kurt saw Andy’s dark, triangular eyebrows go parallel as he drew them down in a disappointed frown.  “Okay, I guess we can label the glue sticks,” he agreed, smiling over Andy’s head at Blaine and pushing the button on the label maker to print another “Andy Hummel.”  

Once Kurt peeled the backing off the sticker, Andy eagerly applied it to the glue stick, before dropping it in the pencil case Blaine held outstretched for him.  “Next one,” Andy prompted, picking up another glue stick.

“Shoulda bought stock in the label company,” Blaine commented as Kurt printed another label.  “So.  What class do you think you’ll like most, Andy?  Reading?  Math?”

“Gym.”  Andy dropped the second glue stick in the bag, taking another sticker from Kurt with this other hand. 

“Well, what about art or music?” Kurt suggested.  “You like art and music, right?”

Andy looked up at Kurt a little anxiously.  “I … I like them okay,” he said cautiously.  “I’m not that good a drawer.  I like football and baseball.  That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Blaine looked solemnly at Kurt over Andy’s head.  Kurt realized his error and hastily tried to cover.

“It’s not just okay.  It’s great you like sports and think they’re fun.  I know your coaches all say you’re good at them,” Kurt said.  “I just … I just hope you give art and music a chance too,” he couldn’t help adding.  “Your school has a great art and music program, and you’ll even get to take an instrument in kindergarten.  What instrument do you think you’ll want to take, Andy?”

Andy was peering into the bag, but looked up and seemed to be thinking about it.  “I guess drums,” he said. 

Kurt felt his face fall. “I thought you might like to take piano like your Papa?  You’ve already taken lessons for a year - -“

“I want to take something different.  Something fun,” Andy said, a little fretfully.

“I think somebody’s hungry,” Blaine observed.  “Lemme get that dinner on the table.”  He planted a kiss on the top of Andy’s head, running a hand over the buzz cut hair.  Kurt could cry looking at that haircut Andy had insisted on this summer because all the boys on his baseball team had it.  “Want a hand with dinner?” he asked as Blaine hurried off to the kitchen.

“I got it,” Blaine called back. 

“How about a book while Papa gets dinner ready?” Kurt offered.  “Maybe Harry Potter?”

“I’ll get one,” Andy scrambled off to his room, and Kurt listened to him rummaging around for a minute before emerging with a book under one arm.

“This one,” Andy said, thrusting the book at him. “Grandpa Burt gave it to me.”  Kurt smothered a sigh at the title.

“Sports Illustrated Big Book of Sports Facts, it is,” Kurt said.  “C’mon up here kiddo.” 

Andy grinned and clambered up beside Kurt, opening the book on their laps and snuggling in contentedly under Kurt’s arm.  “Thanks, Daddy,” he whispered.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, kiddo.  So much,” Kurt whispered back.  “To the moon and back.”  He tilted the book and started where Andy’s chubby finger directed him, using his acting training to lend drama to the sports statistics his little boy was fascinated by.  “Did you know that it’s possible for a pitcher to strike out more than three batters in one inning?  It’s true!”  He looked with exaggerated shock at Andy, who giggled and snuggled closer.  “And Orval Overall did just that in the fifth game of the 1908 World Series …”

 

 


	18. To the Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, warnings for sexy times, and also - Blaine as Hedwig. :)

 

“That’s the last one, Daddy,” Andy said from atop the stepstool pushed against the kitchen sink.  He handed a dripping dinner plate to Kurt to put in the dishwasher before closing the door and turning it on.

“That’s Daddy’s little helper.”  Kurt picked up a dish towel.  “Hands, please.”  He carefully wiped off Andy’s hands, and untied the strings of Andy’s plastic apron.  The sink was full of sudsy water that had sloshed onto the counter and on the floor, making more work than Andy saved by helping; but he and Blaine agreed that having Andy help with the chores was important. 

 “You did a great job,” Kurt praised.  “It’s a big help with your Papa at work.  Now you can go turn on the game.”  He started wiping up the soapy water from the counters into the sink. 

Andy frowned, climbing back up on the stepstool and sitting down with a thud.  “It’s not the same without Papa.  Why does he have to work at night and miss dinner all the time?  And all the baseball games?”

Kurt swished the mop across the floor, chasing the puddle of water Andy had left there while ‘helping’, and then squeezed the mop head over the bucket.  “Andy, you know Papa got a part on Broadway.  But he’s here Mondays and Sundays for dinner, and he picks you up from school every day except Wednesdays.  I know it’s an adjustment, not having dinner together every night, but it’s a really big deal to get a part like this.”

“Can’t we go see him in the play?  Like when we saw him in his other play.  Or when we all went to see Aladdin and Beauty and the Beast?  I like plays.“

Kurt bit his lip.  “I’m sorry, kiddo.  Hedwig is a grown-up play, kids aren’t allowed in the audience.  And your Papa is what’s called an understudy, so we can’t see him unless the person playing the main part can’t go on.  It’s kind of like at school last week, when Mrs. Wu went on maternity leave and you got  Mr. K as a substitute gym teacher.”

“But why does he have to be gone every night for that?” Andy whined.

“That’s part of Papa’s job, sweetheart.  Like when Daddy goes to work at the magazine.  I know you got used to Papa being home nights for a while after his last play closed, but this is part of being a stage actor.”

Andy kicked the leg of his stepstool.  “But I miss him!  I’m asleep before he even comes home!”

“I know.  Can I tell you a secret?”  Kurt leaned on the mop handle.  “Daddy misses Papa too.”  He chucked Andy under the chin and stood the wrung-out mop upside down over the sink to air out.  “Now.  We’re all done in here for now, so how about you and I do something together before bedtime?  Maybe checkers, or Chutes-and-Ladders?”

“Okay,” Andy replied, brightening up.  “I’ll get the checkers!” He ran off toward the living room as Kurt straightened out the kitchen chairs, and gave a final wipe to the table.  As he was about to join Andy in the living room, his phone rang in his pocket.  He fished it out of his pocket, smiling at Blaine’s face on the screen.

“Hey, Blaine.  I’m about to play checkers with Andy.  What’s up?” 

Kurt drew the phone away and stared at it, surprised by the sound of gasping and panting on the other end. 

“Uh.  Blaine.  Not that I don’t appreciate the novelty and all, but … maybe you could call back and try the heavy-breathing routine after our son is in bed?”

“Neil!” Blaine choked out.

“Neil?  Neil Patrick Harris?  Yeah, Blaine, I know you know him from being his understudy.  No need to keep rubbing it in - -“

“Neil broke a leg at – at the matinee today!”

“Well, I’ve seen the show, I know he always - -“

“KURT.  He didn’t break a leg figuratively.  He broke it literally!!  He can’t go on tonight!  That – that wasn’t supposed to happen!  Neil hasn’t missed a performance in - - in ever!  I - - I thought I might go on sometime if he had to - - to miss a performance to host the Oscars or something, but I’d have plenty of notice!  I can’t do it, Kurt!  They’re expecting Neil Fucking Patrick Fucking Harris!”

Kurt heard that rare note of panic in Blaine’s voice; one that he heard before Blaine’s NYADA audition and a few other times in their years together.  He glanced at the kitchen clock; show time was in an hour and a half, and the theater was only 20 minutes away.  Elliot lived the closest.  And this was a supportive husband emergency.

“Blaine.  Listen to me.  I’m going to get Elliot over here to watch Andy, okay, and I’ll be right down there.  Blaine, calm down, you’re hyperventilating!  Find a bag to breathe into, and take slow breaths and count to ten!  I’m on my way, baby, okay?”

He hung up abruptly, and quickly found Elliot’s number in his contacts.  He rushed out through the living room, past Andy sitting on the couch with Barbra Bear, in front of the coffee table with the checkers, and into the bedroom. 

“Hey, Kurt - -“

“Elliot, thank God.  I know it’s last minute but I need you right now at my place.”

“I’m flattered, Kurt, but Blaine’s a good friend, so I think I’ll pass,” Elliot joked.

Kurt put the phone on speaker and set it on the dresser as he pulled a blazer from the rolling rack and shoved his arms into it.  “Not like that!  I need you to babysit Andy.  Blaine is going on as Hedwig _tonight,_ and he needs me down there!”

“Oh my God.  Did something happen to Neil Patrick Harris?”

“Sounds like he got injured.  So Blaine has to go on, and he’s freaking out.  Can you come over?”

“I’m on my way.  Be there in five.”

Kurt kicked off his slippers and yanked some socks from the dresser.  Good luck socks, and a bright purple tie.

“Daddy?”

He looked up from tying his shoes, and smiled kindly at Andy, standing in the doorway with Barbra Bear clutched in his arms and a worried look on his face. 

“Guess what, kiddo!  The main actor broke his leg and can’t go on stage tonight!  So your Papa gets to do the play!  I’m going to go see him, but I have to hurry.  Uncle Starchild will be here any minute to play with you.”

Jumping up, he took a quick appraisal in the mirror, then turned back and picked Andy up, looking him in the eyes.  “I’m sorry about our game, though.  Can I have a raincheck for tomorrow night after dinner?”

Andy nodded solemnly.  True to his word, Elliot’s knock sounded at the front door, and Kurt hurried over, opening it and letting him in. 

“Andy’s had dinner, and he’s allowed fruit or popcorn for a snack.  It’s pajama and teeth-brushing time at 7:30, then a book, and lights out at 8.  Thanks, Elliot, you’re a lifesaver.”  He gave Andy a kiss on the cheek and set him down.  “I’ll tell Papa you said hi, and I’ll see you in the morning, okay?  I love you.” He gave Andy another kiss on the cheek and a hug, and rushed out the door.

 

 

Opening the dressing room door, Kurt peered inside, spotting the back of the familiar blonde wig and the denim jacket, as Blaine had the finishing touches put on his makeup.  He smiled at the makeup artist, Karla, who grinned back.  “Isn’t she fabulous?”

With a flourish, Karla turned the chair, and Kurt was faced with his husband in full Hedwig drag, from the wings of blonde hair, past the over-exaggerated makeup, all the way down to Blaine’s muscled legs in fishnets and high heels.  Kurt’s reaction was immediate and complete, and a bit uncomfortable in his tight camouflage jeans.  “Oh,” he breathed out.  “She … she certainly is.”

Karla covered a smile, and looked up at the clock.  “Well, my job is done here.  Half an hour to  places,” she reminded Blaine, patting him on the shoulder and heading out the door.   Blaine, meanwhile, seemed to have regained confidence now that he was in full costume, and gave him a long, leering once-over.  “So.  How do I look?”  he extended one leg gracefully up and to the side to show off his gold platform shoes, then draped the leg obscenely over the arm of his makeup chair.

“You’re … you’re so hot,” Kurt blurted out.  “I’ve … I’ve never seen anything so hot in my life.”

Blaine raised a drawn-on eyebrow, and took a deliberate look down at Kurt’s crotch.  “Really, Kurt darling?” he purred in Hedwig’s East German accent.  “I have.  And I’m looking at it right now.” 

Kurt whined desperately, slamming and locking the dressing room door behind him, and crossed the room to take that pretty, pouting face in his hands and kiss it senseless.  Blaine, fully in character, chortled delightedly, leaping up and turning his face away.  “Kurt, darling!  I’m about to go on stage!  Not the face!”   Kurt was about to pull away, disappointed, but Blaine-as-Hedwig yanked him back by the belt-loops.  “I just said not the face; but there’s time for something else if you want it.”

Kurt moaned again and pulled his belt off, letting Blaine unbuckle and lower his camos.  He bent over, angling the mirror so he could watch this familiar stranger unzip her miniskirt with one hand.  “You’re going to be amazing tonight, baby,” he breathed, untensing his muscles as Blaine opened him up with Vaseline from the makeup supplies on the table, gently and softly as always even in character as the cruel and brutal Hedwig.

  “Hurry, please,” he pleaded, and Hedwig put her hand over his on the mirror, before pushing in, slowly at first, then building up speed.  Kurt had a perfect view between the mirrors on the table, and the dressing mirror behind them.  Blaine had been working hard to be ready for this part, and the results showed in his tiny, but sinewy body, the muscled legs and arms.  Kurt was going weak in the knees, but Blaine’s legs felt so strong behind him, his arms so powerful as he pulled and pushed Kurt’s hips back and forth, in time with his own deep, rolling thrusts. Blaine/Hedwig wasn’t holding back – wasn’t trying to make it last like Blaine usually did in their comfy marital bed at home with the door locked to deter small, sleepy intruders - - there wasn’t time to, not with curtain so very close, and the beautiful, strange face over his shoulder in the mirror was blissed out with pure pleasure, head lolled back and mouth open.   

Kurt knew he was close when the jerking motions became erratic and the wide brown eyes squeezed shut.  “I love you,” Blaine’s voice, not Hedwig’s, moaned as he clenched his face in climax, spurting  into Kurt with a shuddering groan.  “I love you so much,” he kept panting.  Blaine stood him up straight and held him there, back to Blaine’s chest, and nuzzled his hair for a brief moment of recovery. 

Then, still breathing heavily, Hedwig slid one manicured hand slowly down Kurt’s belly to his exposed groin.  Meeting Kurt’s eyes in the mirror, she reached for some lotion on the table, coating her palm with it, and wrapped that graceful hand around him.  Kurt slumped a little, but Hedwig snarled, “No, stand up and look at how hot you are like this.”  She kept him standing while she slowly, slowly jerked Kurt off, holding him up against her with her free arm, so he could look at himself in the makeup mirrors.  Kurt couldn’t take his eyes away from the sight of the two of them, Hedwig the taller one in those impossibly high heels, expertly stroking along Kurt’s length in just the way Blaine knew he liked it.  It didn’t take many before Kurt groaned and splattered all over the makeup mirror, then leaned back against Hedwig’s shoulder, panting and spent. 

“There’s a seat saved for you down front, on the aisle.  I’ll find you when it’s time for Sugar Daddy, okay, baby?” Blaine’s Hedwig voice purred in his ear.  “I’ll show everybody who I belong to if you want me to.”

“I want you to,” Kurt gasped.  “I want you to.”


	19. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mini chapter

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, the sunlight streaming in the bedroom window, where they’d forgotten to close the blinds the night before, woke Kurt before the alarm.  He squinted, and picked up the alarm clock to check the time.  Ten minutes before he had to get up, get ready for work, and drop Andy off at school.  He turned off the alarm and curled around Blaine’s passed-out body. 

Raised on his elbow, he studied Blaine’s sleeping face, peaceful and a bit exhausted.  Maybe he’d let Blaine sleep in this morning.  It had been an incredibly … _strenuous_ evening for him.  Making love in the dressing room before the show; 90 minutes without an intermission as Hedwig; then fucking again in the dressing room.  And again once they got home and got rid of a grinning, mercilessly teasing Elliot.  And again, and again, several more times during the night until they were so exhausted and sore they finally had to stop and go to sleep.

“I was so proud of you on that stage tonight,” he’d said once, but that childlike pride in Blaine’s youthful performance of West Side Story paled beside what he’d felt last night watching Blaine become Hedwig.  And sexually.  Well.  He’d always known Blaine was a prim little gentleman in the streets, and a total freak in the sheets, as the saying went, but.  Wow.  Kurt had nearly come again in his pants when a ferocious Hedwig, played by his husband, had descended into the audience in a miniskirt made of Christmas lights, and given him a patented Hedwig carwash.  And the excitement and novelty had carried over all night.

He slipped out of bed quietly, put on his robe and grabbed the suit he planned to wear to work, and padded to the bathroom for a quick shower.  If he hurried, he could get ready before Andy had to get up, and get his breakfast and lunch ready without waking Blaine up.  That man had earned his rest. 

When he emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, though, he could smell pancakes frying on the stove.  Lemon blueberry, Blaine’s favorite ‘next-morning’ fare.  He went into the kitchen, where Andy was up already, in his PJ’s, waiting for breakfast.

“Hi Daddy!” he squeaked. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Kurt greeted him, with a kiss on the top of the head.  “Your Daddy was amazing last night, by the way.” 

Blaine flipped a pancake onto the stack beside the stove and turned, carrying the plate with a wide-eyed look at Kurt.  Kurt grinned back evilly and held out his plate.  “Cake me,” he demanded.  Blaine obligingly served up two hotcakes, but Kurt jabbed the plate back at him.  “Make it four today.  I’m feeling extra famished for some reason.”  Blaine turned bright pink and turned two more pancakes onto Kurt’s plate, then served Andy and himself.

“Well.  I think it did go rather well,” Blaine said modestly.  “No major disasters, other than when I nearly brained myself on that microphone stand during Tear Me Down.”

“You covered well,” Kurt said.  “And you did better than just ‘rather well’.   You were a revelation.  I plan to say so in my column, but.  Unfortunately, I have a feeling people might think I was biased.”

“Probably,” Blaine agreed, reaching for the bowl of extra berries.  “Andy, you should have some more fruit with that.”

“Fortunately for you, I wasn’t the only journalist in the audience,” Kurt said slyly.  “I saw one of the Times theater critics there.  And she seemed quite taken with the performance.  I managed to catch up with her after the show, and.  I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but she said she was going to give you a glowing review, and meet with you for an article.”

“C’mon, Daddy.  Quit pulling my leg.”

Kurt gave his biggest shit-eating grin.  “Nope.  Hand to God.” 

Blaine reached over and kissed Kurt.  “You little devil.  You didn’t let on at all last night!”

“Well, I got distracted,” Kurt smiled into the kiss. “I guess you’ll only be doing the show until Neil gets better, but this is a major break for you, and if she comes through with the article? Well.  That’d be even bigger.  Promise me after your big break, you’ll throw me an interview once in a while.  Rachel always does, you know, and so does Mercedes.  So.”

“I’ll definitely give you a few exclusives, don’t worry, cutie,” Blaine murmured. 

“Hey!” Andy demanded, and they both turned to him, both blushing a little.

“Sorry.  Does it bother you when Papa and Daddy kiss?” Kurt asked, refilling Andy’s milk glass.

“No, but we gotta get ready for school!” Andy insisted.  “I need my gym uniform.  Mr. K says we have to wear our gym uniform for gym day.  He says we’re doin’ baseball this week!  He’s a way better gym teacher than Mrs. Wu!”

“Really,” Kurt said.  “I thought Mrs. Wu was good when I met her at own house.  That yoga unit sounded great.”

“I hate yoga,” Andy said flatly.  “It’s boring.”

“It can have its appeal,” Blaine said mildly, shooting Kurt a flirtatious wink.  “Downward dog, and all that, right …. _Daddy_?”

Kurt rolled his eyes and handed Blaine his coffee cup.  “I’ll go help Andy get ready.  Are you walking with us to his school?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”  Blaine ruffled Andy’s hair and kissed Kurt’s cheek.  “Let’s hustle.”

 

 


	20. An Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for another baby?

 

Kurt came back into the living room and smiled at Rachel.  “So.  Andy’s asleep, finally.  Blaine won’t be home from the theater for a few hours.  Let’s dish. Tony Award Winner for Best Actress.  How does it feel?”  Kurt asked.  “Gimme an exclusive quote for Vogue.”  He flipped on his Dictaphone and set it on the table beside the array of fruit, vegetables and voice-friendly beverages he’d assembled for their visit-slash-interview.

Rachel batted her eyes.  “Well.  The downside to having all your professional dreams achieved by age 25,” Rachel sighed, “is it really leaves you wondering what your next act possibly can be, how you can top yourself, you know?”

“Such a tragedy,” Kurt agreed.  “What’s the plan, then?”

“Funny you should ask.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. 

“Let’s go off the record, okay?” Rachel said, putting a hand on his arm.  “This is about you and me.”

“Okay?”

“I know that you and Blaine have been looking for a surrogate.  And that it hasn’t been going well,” Rachel said.  “That thing that happened in the spring.  It – broke my heart for you guys.”

Kurt’s eyes misted over, but he tried to bravely blink back the tears.  

 _‘That thing_ ’ Rachel had said.  Just the beautiful, perfect plan they’d had with Brittany and Santana, to share not just an anniversary but a child, with Santana and Brittany moving into the same building in preparation for raising a little one together.   But Santana had a stillbirth in the third trimester, breaking all four of their hearts, but especially sensitive-on-the-inside Santana.  Kurt didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of Santana holding their baby in her arms and sobbing against Brittany’s shoulder.   When she recovered physically, Santana flatly refused to try again and had moved herself and Brittany out when their lease expired.  Kurt still heard from Brittany quite often from the road, but Santana had severed ties completely in her terrible grief.  So their friendship had been lost as well as their second baby, at least for the time being.  He hoped fervently that someday, they might be friends again.

He wiped his eyes and put his chin up in front of Rachel, though.  “Miscarriages and stillbirths happen,” Kurt said, tremulously.  “It was a disappointment, but - -“

“But.  I know there’s more at stake for you than for just ‘anybody’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Kurt.  This is me talking.  I know that you must be eaten up with resentment over the fact that – well.  That Blaine has a child he knows is his – Andy.  But that Andy might not be your real son, and you might never have a child of your own at this rate.”

“I am not eaten up with resentment about anything, Rachel, and I accepted the possibility that Andy’s not my son a long time ago.  That’s not why we were trying to have another baby.”

“Well, just the same.  I feel for you.  And I don’t want to see this issue hanging over the two of you the rest of your life.  If you had a child you knew for sure was yours, that would take care of that whole issue.”

Kurt was about to answer when he saw a shadow flit across the door to the hallway.  “Just a minute, Rachel - - “ he interrupted, getting up and putting his drink on the table.  As he approached, he heard a door shutting on the other side. 

He opened the door to the hallway and peered down.  A sliver of light gleamed under the bathroom door.  Uneasy, he went to stand by the doorway and knocked on it. 

“Andy?  What are you doing out of bed again, kiddo?  I said lights out, tomorrow’s a school day.”

“I had to use the potty,” a small voice came from within, followed by a flush and the sound of water running into the sink.  Finally, Andy emerged, in his Star Wars pajamas, with Barbara Bear tucked under his arm.

“Everything okay, Andy?” Kurt asked.  “Were you by the living room doorway before?”

Andy rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  “No, Daddy.  I’m tired now.  I think I’ll go to bed.”

“Okay.  I’ll tuck you and Barbra in.”

“That’s okay,” Andy mumbled. “I’m a big boy now.  G’night.” 

Kurt gave Andy and Barbra another kiss goodnight, and then watched Andy shuffle into his room, shutting the door behind him.  He felt a sadness settle over him.   Andy was growing up so fast.  Full day kindergarten.  Tucking himself into bed.  He missed the little baby Andy had been once, even though he loved the little boy just as much, if not more. 

The early days of fatherhood had been difficult, to say the least; after that ill-advised surgery to try to salvage his carrier organs had failed, Blaine had taken a long time to recover physically and mentally, so he’d had to go it alone for quite a while.  When Blaine had come home, it had been another adjustment, since Blaine needed him as much as Andy did, after his final surgery and before the cloud of post -partum depression had finally lifted.  But … there was nothing quite like taking care of a new baby.  Kurt shut off the bathroom light and went back to the living room.

“Andy woke up to use the bathroom one more time,” he explained, settling down.  “Listen, Rachel, I’m not sure where you’re getting all this from, but trust me.  I’m not looking to have another baby to even the score with Blaine and have my own child.  Andy _is_ my own child, period.  I couldn’t love any child more than I love him.”  He shrugged.  “And for your information.  The baby Santana lost.”  Kurt paused and took a deep breath.  “That baby was biologically Blaine’s, not mine.  Blaine wanted me to supply the sperm, but I insisted otherwise.”

Rachel blinked, incredulous.  “I don’t understand.  Why wouldn’t you be the one to donate?”

“Two main reasons.  One is my family’s medical history, and the other is that way, we know for sure that Andy and the new baby would be related by blood, through Blaine.”  Kurt sighed.  “But all this is pretty much moot.  All that’s on hold for a while.  That last experience was too painful for everybody and we’re just not up for going through the process of finding a surrogate mother.”

“Well.  I’m willing to help you out.”

Kurt looked curiously at her.  “You know of a surrogate for us?”

Rachel made jazz hands around her head.  “I’m talking about me! I want to have a baby with you!”

“C’mon Rachel.  Not funny.”

“It’s not a joke!  I want to do this for you!”

“What does your husband think about you having another man’s child,” Kurt asked, humoring her.

“You know he felt terrible for you guys when Santana lost the baby last spring.  He understands and is willing to let me do it, now that … now that Santana.  You know.”

“What about your show, though?”

“I can do it pregnant, my costume designer is a genius.”

“Rachel ... but … why?  Why would you offer to do this?”

“Don’t you know?”

Kurt took her hand in his.  “No.  I really don’t.  It’s such a huge sacrifice.  Your first pregnancy … your first child.   Giving that up for us?  Why, Rachel?”

“Okay.  Part of me feels like I need to pay it forward,” Rachel admitted.  “If Shelby hadn’t done the same for my dads, I wouldn’t be here.  So the idea isn’t foreign to me.  I know you’ll take good care of the baby; I see what a great job you’re doing with Andy.  It’s not like I wouldn’t be part of the baby’s life; I’d be Fabulous Aunt Rachel.”

Kurt smothered a smile, and Rachel smiled back.  “And most importantly … I love you.  You’ve been a great friend to me, and I haven’t always been that to you.  This would be my gift to you, and to Blaine and Andy too.”

Kurt looked incredulously at her, then scrutinized her face.  “You realize what you’re offering, don’t you?  You saw how hard pregnancy was, for Blaine, then Santana.  It’s not like offering to bake a cake.”

“I know that!” Rachel said indignantly.   “Just talk to Blaine about it, okay?”

Kurt nodded slowly, and Rachel grinned, reaching for the Dictaphone.  “Now.  Enough about you.  Let’s get back to talking about me.”

 

“I don’t know, Kurt.”  Blaine turned in the shower and lifted his arms, and Kurt dutifully scrubbed at the glitter still coating his back from Hedwig’s latest performance.  “I want more children, but right now things are just taking off for me with all the publicity for Hedwig, and then once that dies down, I have to start getting ready for Aladdin rehearsals.  You know those’ll keep me even busier than I am right now.”

Kurt squeezed his bath sponge, chuckling a little at the sparkly water dripping into the drain.  “Yes.  But it wouldn’t happen for at least nine months,” he pointed out.  “Assuming the procedure takes the first time.   More than likely you’ll be in performances by then, and we can work around each other’s schedules like we did with Andy.”

Blaine’s shoulders were drooping, and his head was bowed.  He traced a line in the steam on the shower door with a purple-sparkle painted fingernail. 

“Hey.”  Kurt slipped his arms around Blaine’s waist from behind, pressing up close, and hooked his chin over his shoulder.  “What’s really going on in here,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Blaine’s temple. 

“I’m afraid,” Blaine admitted.  “It hurt so much when.  Santana.  I’m not sure I can handle another disappointment like that.  And I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have a baby with someone we’re close to.  It just complicates things …”  He shook his head and leaned back. 

“If you’re not ready, then that’s that,” Kurt said firmly.  “I don’t want to push you into anything.”  He wiped the bath sponge over Blaine’s toned abdomen, sluicing away more glittery sweat.  “I thought having a Tony-award-winning egg donor, who just happens to be my best friend - -“

Blaine turned and raised an eyebrow.

“After you, of course.  Who’s willing to do this for us.  It seems like an amazing opportunity." 

"I hear what you're saying. But maybe we should just wait and if it happens, it happens?" Blaine suggested.

"Blaine. Let's face it. If it was going to happen, it would have by now. I'm obviously not a carrier."

"We could go back to Dr. Weber and find out if that's true - -"

"I will never see that hack again."

"Somebody else, then?"

Kurt sighed, and kissed Blaine's neck. "What's the point? If I am, I am, if I'm not, I'm not, there's nothing the doctors can do about it. And even if I am, you know male carrier fertility is so weird I might never get pregnant anyway. And maybe it's for the best, with my family's medical history. I'm probably going to be dead before I'm fifty based on - -"

"Please don't say that," Blaine begged. "You know I hate to hear you talk like that. And look at Burt. He's doing so well. Wouldn't you like to give him another grandchild?" 

"Hey! That's my line!" Kurt teased. "Look, we could wait a few more years, and then if it doesn't happen for us, then start looking for some anonymous surrogate, interview a few of them, hopefully find somebody we like, then hire a lawyer to draft contracts; or, we could have a baby this way together right now, while Andy is still young enough to enjoy having a baby brother or sister. C'mon. What do you say?“

“Okay, I get it.  I get it,” Blaine relented.  “You’re right.  It _is_ an amazing opportunity.  I … I hope that Santana understands when she finds out …”

Kurt set the sponge on the tray, shut off the water, and turned Blaine to face him, cupping his face in his hands.  “Blaine.  Santana will understand we have to get on with our lives.  She told us she’d never want to try it again.”

“She might not mean that after some time goes by,” Blaine started.  “Maybe she’ll be willing to come back home.  Move in here again.  There’s an apartment opening up on the fifth floor, it’s totally different from the one they had before.  Or maybe she’ll let Brittany do it.”

“It’s been six months.  We haven’t even heard from Santana again,” Kurt pointed out. 

Blaine leaned into Kurt’s arms, pressing his face against Kurt’s shoulder.  “I want to call Santana and ask for her blessing first,” he murmured.  Kurt could feel warm tears slipping from Blaine’s eyes, and a slight sob when Kurt squeezed him tighter. 

“Okay,” Kurt agreed, reaching for the oversized bath towel hanging on the shower door, and moving to wrap Blaine in it.  He pulled down another towel for himself.  “We’ll see if Santana’s okay with us moving on with Rachel as the surrogate, before we do anything.”


	21. A Change of Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How's Andy handling things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Point of View switch to li'l Andy, also dodgeball injury and perceived bullying.

“Okay, class!  It’s gym time in five minutes!  Let’s put away our crayons nicely please!” Miss Katie sang from the corner of the room. 

Andy stopped drawing and looked at his picture of his family.  It was a good picture.  It had almost every color in it.  Blue for the sky.  Green for the grass.  Yellow for Papa’s pants, red for his shirt.  Purple for Daddy’s suit. 

Miss Katie came and stood behind his chair.  “Let’s see, Andy.”  She leaned over his shoulder.  “You did a nice job, Andy.  I see your Papa, and your Daddy holding hands.”  She pointed at the picture and she was right about who was Papa and who was Daddy.  He felt a little better because he did a good job and Miss Katie could tell who the pictures were.  “Who’s this?” she pointed at Aunt Rachel, drawn in pink with long brown hair and holding a baby in an orange star-shaped snowsuit by one arm.  Daddy was holding the baby’s other arm. 

“That’s Aunt Rachel.”

“Oh.  And is this you?” she tapped the star-baby in the middle.

“No.  That’s a baby.  I’m not a baby,” Andy said. 

“Aunt Rachel’s baby?  Your cousin?  I didn’t know you have a new cousin.”

“I don’t.  That baby’s not real yet.”  Maybe he shouldn’t have drawn it yet.  Maybe he was going to get a red X for that.

Miss Katie looked at him like she was surprised, and then laughed a little.  He didn’t like that she laughed at his picture.  Or at him. 

“Okay.  Why aren’t you in the picture, though?  The assignment was for you to draw yourself with your family.”

 “I don’t know.”  He felt angry all of a sudden.  He grabbed his crayons and put them in his pencil case, and then got up and stomped over to the cubbies to put it away.  Miss Katie took the picture to her desk and put it in her drawer instead of on the wall like she did for everybody else.  That was because he messed up.  She said to draw yourself and your family, and he didn’t feel like putting himself in that picture right now.  But maybe he was in trouble for not following directions.  He got his pencil case back out and sneaked up to the desk.  Miss Katie looked at him and smiled.  “Yes, Andy?”

“Can I put me in it now, Miss Katie?”

Miss Katie slid the paper over and he picked out his gray crayon.  There wasn’t much time.  The class was lining up to go to gym.  He drew a fast circle in the corner far away from Papa and Daddy and Aunt Rachel and the new baby she was going to have.  He put a longer stick for the body and four shorter sticks for the arms and legs.  It was late, so he stopped and pushed the paper over to Miss Katie.  But it wasn’t good enough.

“You forgot the face,” Miss Katie said.  She slid the paper over again.  But everybody was on line and staring at him.  They were going to be late to gym because he messed up.  He felt even more angry.  He drew a frowny face on Picture Andy, then scribbled over him.  “I don’t have time,” he said, looking away.  He felt like he was going to cry like a baby and he blinked hard. 

“It’s okay, Andy.  The picture is beautiful as it is.  Go get in line.” 

Andy ran over to get on the end of the line behind Ewan.  Ewan was always the last to get in line, and Andy was almost always the first to get in line for gym.  Now it was Andy who was last.  He followed the line out the door and down the hallway to gym class.  He still felt like crying, but he didn’t want anybody to know he was sad.  Or why. 

They got to gym class and he felt a little better.  He loved gym.  Mr. K was in the middle of the gym standing on the mat, and he was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and he had a whistle on a long cord around his neck.  Mr. K was big and had a big loud voice and a big smile and was nice.  He blew on the whistle and that meant they had to run over and get in a circle on the mat.  

Andy sat down right away.  Mr. K blew the whistle again.  “Morning, McNuggets.  Hope you all had a good weekend.  Today we’re starting a dodgeball unit.  Who here knows how to play dodgeball already? Hands up?”

Everybody threw their hands up in the air, except Ewan.  Now they were going to have to wait to play dodgeball for Mr. K to explain dodgeball to Ewan.  Andy knew how to play dodgeball, they played it in preschool all the time, so he didn’t need to listen to the rules and be bored.  He stuck out his feet in front of him instead and looked at his cool new sneakers with laces.  Grandpa Burt got them with laces by mistake.  Papa was going to bring them back, and get different ones with Velcro to be easier.  But Daddy said wait.  And then Daddy helped him learn to tie them all by himself and helped him practice until he got it right.  He looked at the other kids’ sneakers.  He was the only kid with laces on his sneakers.   He tied them this morning all by himself, and Daddy said he was proud and that Andy should be proud, and that Andy was his big boy. 

But Daddy was lying about that.  He heard Aunt Rachel and Daddy say he wasn’t Daddy’s boy.  And when he sneaked back, and tried to listen in the dark, Aunt Rachel said she wanted Daddy to have a real boy with her.  He didn’t know what she meant, exactly, but he didn’t like it.  Not one bit.

The whistle made a loud noise and surprised Andy.  “C’mon, buddy!”  Mr. K said.  “Get in line by your number.”  Mr. K gave everybody a number at the beginning of the year, and his was 6.  He crammed into line between Ewan who had 5, and Millie who had 7.  Mr. K walked back and forth in front of them.  “Now remember.  I want a clean game.  No hits above the shoulders.  No rough stuff.  You get one warning; the second time you’re out.  Keep it fun.”  He blew the whistle again.  “Okay, tadpoles.  Even numbers, you’re Team Red Shirts, and odd numbers, you’re Team Blue.  Shirt up and then let’s play!” 

Andy ran to the bench and grabbed a red pinny to put on, and then ran really fast onto the court.  Mr. K was lining up the dodgeballs on the center line, and when all the kids were back on the court, he backed up and blew the whistle.  Andy was the first one to grab a ball off the center line.  He aimed for Ewan, and got him right on the shoulder.  But Ewan didn’t call himself out.  He just stood there.  Andy frowned, but out of the corner of his eye saw another ball flying at him – Millie was throwing it.  He caught it, and Millie turned and ran off to the side like she was supposed to. 

Andy looked back at Ewan.  He was still standing there looking at nothing on the side of the gym.  He was a cheater.  He was supposed to run to the side when he got out fair and square.  

“Throw the ball!” Joey yelled as he ran past and scooped up another bouncing ball. 

Andy reached back and whaled the ball at Ewan, hard.  And nailed him right in the back - - right before Joey hit him in the face at the same time.  Ewan’s glasses came off and fell on the ground, and Ewan landed on his butt on top of them.  Andy stopped running and stared.  Ewan had blood on his face!  And his glasses were broken!

The whistle made a long, loud noise and Mr. K was running across the court.  “Take a knee, everybody!” he was yelling, and Andy dropped to one knee like all his coaches had taught him.  He couldn’t look at Ewan.  But he could hear him crying. 

“That dummy, why didn’t he duck or catch it,” Joey said next to him.  Andy stared at the floor.  He felt worse than ever now.   

“Looks like a bloody nose, but no serious damage,” Mr. K said.  “You’ll be okay, buddy, but why don’t you go down to the nurse’s office?  You know where it is?”

Andy knew Ewan didn’t know.  Ewan never knew where anything was.  He thought about asking to help, but Mr. K was already saying, “That’s okay, buddy.  I’ll call Miss Katie to come get you and walk you down.” 

Andy finally looked up and saw Mr. K using the phone in the corner of the room, his other arm around Ewan’s thin, small shoulders.  There was blood on Ewan’s shirt and his broken glasses were in his hand.  That was Andy's fault.  His and Joey’s.  Miss Katie came to the door and talked to Mr. K.  She looked at Andy.  Her face looked surprised, and Andy knew now she knew he hurt Ewan.  It wasn’t on purpose.  Not really.  And it was Joey who broke the rule about hitting above the shoulders.  But.

But he did hit Ewan too hard.  He didn’t know why.  Ewan never did anything to hurt anybody.  But he still just … wanted to throw that ball hard and teach him a lesson.  But why?  Why did he do that mean thing?

Mr. K came back to the class after Miss Katie took Ewan to the nurse.  His face looked tired. 

“I guess we’re not ready for dodgeball after all.  Let’s pick up the balls and put them away.  Then we can play something else, I guess.  Joey and Andy, I want to talk to you in the corner, please.”  The kids scrambled around for the balls, and Joey and Andy looked at each other, then walked behind him.

“Guys.  I didn’t like what I saw just now.”

Andy hung his head. 

“I said no hitting above the shoulders, and not to be rough, didn’t I?  And do you think it was nice to gang up on a kid like - -“ Mr. K stopped.  Andy was confused.  What did Mr. K mean, a kid like Ewan?

“Sorry, Mr. K,” Joey said.  He didn’t sound that sorry, but Mr. K nodded.

“Okay, Joey.  I’m not the one you should say sorry to.  I expect both of you to apologize to Ewan in front of the class tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. K,” Joey said.  Andy couldn’t make the words come out, for some reason.

“Go sit down in the corner, and think about what happened, Joey.”  Joey ran away real fast and jumped up the side of the wall in the corner, then sat down with a big grin showing his missing two front teeth.  

Mr. K got down on one knee and looked at Andy.  “Andy?  Do you have anything to say?  That wasn’t like you; you’ve always been nice to Ewan before.  You haven’t been yourself lately.  Is anything bothering you I should know about?”

Andy felt his face getting hot.  He couldn’t talk or he’d cry.  Right in front of everybody.  Mr. K was his favorite teacher and now he’d ruined everything.  Mr. K would never like him again.

After Andy stared at the floor for a while, Mr. K made a sad sound and patted him on the shoulder.  “Okay, Andy.  You go sit down in the other corner away from Joey.”  He stood up and blew the whistle again.  “Everybody on the center line.  We’ll do Simon Says the rest of the class,” Mr. K called, as Andy trudged over to sit down and watch everybody else have fun but him.  Because he was a bad kid, and when Daddy found out, he wouldn't like him at all anymore and would definitely want a new baby with Aunt Rachel.

Sitting on the floor, he felt crying coming up in his chest and his eyes.  He tried pressing his eyes with his hands, but the crying was in his chest now and it was hurting to keep it in.  He couldn't stay there and cry in front of everybody and get laughed at.  He got up and ran out the door, and down the hall and to the front door, where one of the teachers was going out.  He heard Mr. K calling behind him, and Miss Katie, but he just dodged around the teacher and out onto the sidewalk.  He was going home.

 


	22. Additions and Losses

Kurt looked anxiously at his watch, hurrying down the hallway toward his apartment.  There was time, but none to spare.  His piece on John Varvatos’ new runway show had taken longer than usual to proof and approve the photo layout, and he hadn’t accounted for how hard it would be to get a cab at lunch hour.  Reaching his door, he fumbled for his keys in his jacket pockets, and dropped them.  He retrieved them, found the door key, and tried to get it into the lock, but his hands were strangely shaky.  He stopped and collected himself.

He took a few deep cleansing breaths.  It was ridiculous.  He was actually nervous.  And not just a little nervous.  A lot nervous.  Obviously, it was the pressure of having to rush out of work, even with a knowing nod and an encouraging and slightly embarrassing “Good Luck” from Isabelle as he careened down the Vogue hallways.  Plus Blaine had insisted on meeting at their place, a ten-minute walk from Rachel’s ob-gyn.  That meant having to make it … _happen_ for both him and Blaine on a short time table, and then rush the results of their joint efforts over to Rachel’s doctor in time for her procedure.  He hadn’t been this jittery about a sexual performance since he was a seventeen year old virgin asking to go over to Blaine’s house for their first time. 

Well.  Standing out here panicking and wasting time wasn’t going to make things any easier.  He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and opened the door with a quick shove. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he called.  “Let’s get this show on the ro-“

He blinked in surprise.

The living room drapes were drawn, but the living room glowed warmly with vanilla-scented candles over every inch of available table space.  Smooth jazz filled the air.  A bottle of wine on ice, alongside two wine glasses and a bowl of whole strawberries, was set on a tray by the fireplace, and a fire crackled away in the small fireplace.  In other words, Blaine was employing every weapon in his never-subtle seduction arsenal.  Kurt’s mouth twitched in amusement, and he switched off his phone, slipping it into his jacket pocket.  “Blaine?” he called again.  “I’m home, are you ready to start?“

Dressed in just a dark green silk robe open to the waist, Blaine appeared in the doorway from the hall, and paused, leaning against the door jamb with a suggestive smirk.  “Oh, hi, handsome.  Yeah, I’m ready.  And I’ve been thinking about you the whole time while I get there.” 

“Uh.  Hi,” Kurt answered, raising an eyebrow. Okay. He saw how it was going to be.  Blaine was going to make a big deal about this when they had sixteen minutes to jerk each other off into a plastic cup.   He gestured at the living room.  “So – uh -- I guess we’re doing this in here?”  He pulled off his jacket and hung it on a hook by the door, and when he turned back, Blaine had materialized two inches away with the two wine glasses in hand.

“Have a drink with me,” he whispered huskily.

Kurt took the proffered wine glass and chugged it, then set the empty glass on the entryway table.

“Okay, let’s get to it,” he said briskly.  “Where’s the specimen cup?”

Blaine tapped his pocket, with a click against something plastic.  Taking his sweet time, he sipped his wine calmly and led Kurt by the hand toward the fireplace.   He dropped down to recline against some of the pillows strategically arranged around on the floor and placed the wine glass on the hearth.  “Sit down and get comfortable?”  He looked up from under his eyelashes at Kurt.  “C’mere, baby,” he whispered huskily.  “You’re so tense.  Relax a little with me.”

Kurt lowered himself to sit down.  He was already getting a little light-headed and queasy from drinking that wine so fast on an empty stomach, and there were only fifteen minutes left now.   “So.  You look like you’re halfway there, so should we start with you first?”  He reached out a sweaty palm – the doctor had cautioned no lube or even saliva was allowed – slipped it underneath Blaine’s robe and fumbled to get a grip.  But before he could even do anything else, annoying Blaine pushed his hand away.  He pulled Kurt down to lie next to him against the arranged pillows, and snuggled into Kurt’s arms. 

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing his lips along the edge of Kurt’s ear.  “So much.”  He ran a hand over Kurt’s chest, stroking it gently, and slowly drawing Kurt’s shirt out of his trousers.  “So much,” he repeated, pulling back and looking at Kurt expectantly. 

“I – love you too, honey,” Kurt mumbled.  “So - - uh.  I appreciate all the romance, of course, but – well.  In the words of Pretty Woman.  I’m kind of a sure thing?  Shouldn’t we get down to business?”

“We both do have a job to do, right?” Blaine smiled, unbuckling Kurt’s belt and opening his fly.  “But we’re making a new baby together!  It should be romantic, not all clinical.  That’s why I wanted to do it here instead of at the doctor’s office with a magazine and a nurse hovering around in the hallway.  I wanted – I wanted to do it by making love, here, where we live and have our life together.”  He looked up at Kurt adoringly, all big pretty brown eyes and fluttering lashes.  

Kurt felt his heart melt; and between the wine and the sweet pleading eyes he loved so much, the tension started to melt away too.  He smiled back into Blaine’s eyes and leaned down to kiss him long and slow.  Blaine was right.  There was time to do this the right way, together, in a way they’d always remember.  He let Blaine undress him, kiss and take care of him, and love him.  Under Blaine’s gentle, but strong, familiar hands, soon enough Kurt gasped his name and found release, shuddering, with his face pressed against Blaine’s damp, smooth shoulder. 

“You look so beautiful like that,” Blaine whispered, handing the cup to Kurt and kissing his cheek, then his lips.  He slipped the robe open and off, letting it drop to the floor, and after a glance Kurt looked up guiltily. 

“You’ve been holding that back all this time? Honey – I’m sorry – we could have done you first - -“

Blaine dropped his head and rested it on Kurt’s shoulder. “Please.  Before I explode?” he moaned, and Kurt took his turn, whispering encouragement that was barely needed before Blaine cried out a warning, just in time, and the contents in the little cup doubled. 

Kurt held Blaine for a bit, stroking his trembling arm and pressing his lips to his cheek, but kept his eye on the clock all the while.  “Okay,” he finally said, slapping Blaine briskly on the shoulder.  “Time to get over to the doctor.”  Blaine whined in protest, but Kurt was already half dressed. 

“C’mon, honey.  Time and Rachel waits for no man.”  Kurt buttoned his shirt and pulled on his jacket, slipping the precious specimen cup into an inside pocket.  Body warmth was critical to keeping the sample viable.  As he snuffed out the candles that hadn't burned out, he took a second to pull the phone from his jacket and check it.

New messages.  Three of them.  And a bunch of texts.  He flipped open the voice mail and held it to his ear to play it while Blaine hurried, naked as a jaybird, toward the bedroom.

“Mr. Hummel, this is Principal Clay at Andy’s school.  We’ve been trying to reach you.  Please call, it’s an emergency.”

Kurt felt his stomach drop.  No.  No - - he quickly called the number on the screen and paced back and forth while the phone rang once, twice - -

“Principal Clay’s office.”

“This is Kurt Hummel.  I got a call – my son - - Andy Hummel - -“ he gasped.

“Hold please, sir.” 

Kurt sat down on the sofa, his eyes squeezed shut.  He heard Blaine rustling around and picking up keys behindhim.

“Hey, aren’t we going?  Who are you on with - -“ Blaine asked, rounding the couch, and Kurt looked up at him, speechless with fright and worry.

“What is it? What’s going on? Is it Andy?”

Kurt handed the phone to Blaine, who flipped on the speaker.

“Mr. Hummel?  This is Principal Clay - - I’m sorry, but - - there’s a problem with your son.  Andy, well, he got upset today in school and - - he ran out of the building and - - and we lost him in the crowd.  The police have been called and - - we’re still looking for him.  I’m so sorry, Mr. Hummel - -

Kurt couldn’t speak, but Blaine put his arm around him and squeezed tightly.

“This is Mr. Anderson, Ms. Clay.  What time did he leave the school, and did anybody see what direction he went in?”

“12:30, but we don’t know what direction he went after he got out the door.”

Blaine nodded, and pulled Kurt tighter. “He probably tried to come home.  He walks every day with me or Kurt.  But he should have been here by now.  Keep looking on your end, and when the police get there, have them call me.  He had on the gym version of the school uniform today.  Do you have any pictures of him to show the police?”

“Yes.  Mr. Anderson, we’re so sorry - -“

“We’re leaving now, goodbye Ms. Clay,” Blaine said shortly, clicking the phone off and slipping it into Kurt’s jacket pocket. 

Kurt stood up, shaking, and knocked a small side table over as he careened toward the door.  Andy was lost.  He should have been home by now.  He was out there on the streets alone and upset and - - he jerked open the front door and ran to the elevator, jabbing frantically at the down button.  Blaine was closing and locking the door to the apartment, and caught up with him at the elevator.

 

“Here,” he said, shoving something into Kurt’s hands.  He looked down at a print of Andy’s school picture.  At Andy’s funny “taking a picture” grimace that he made whenever he was asked to pose, so different from the broad, uninhibited natural grin he inherited from Blaine, but still a part of that unique and special little person.  He felt like he was swimming through something thick, something that slowed him and muffled everything but the beat of his heart. If anything happened to this boy he would die.

“Kurt,” Blaine said sharply but kindly, as the elevator pinged and he dragged Kurt onto it.  “We have to focus.  You take the east side of the street; I’ll take the west.  Show that picture to everybody you see.  We’ll find him.  He’s somewhere between here and that school, and we will find him, we have to, okay, baby?”

Kurt nodded, and the doors opened again.  They rushed out, hand in hand, and reached the doorway.  Blaine stopped to talk to the doorman and hand him a picture to show, but Kurt raced to the opposite side of the street, the one Blaine assigned him, and raced pell-mell down it. 

“Andy!” he screamed.  “Andy!”  He stopped at the fruit vendor where he bought Andy an apple or a pear every day on the way to school.  “Guillermo,” he gasped out to the friendly shopowner.  “Have you seen Andy?  Has he been past here?”  

“No – no, sorry.  Is he lost?”

“Yes.  Yes, if you see him, get him to stay here and call me, please,” Kurt pleaded, fumbling for a business card and shoving it into the man’s hand before racing down the sidewalk again.  He heard Blaine calling Andy’s name on the opposite side of the street, and he started shouting it too. 

He ran the entire length of the walk to Andy’s school, shouting himself hoarse, and got there first, panting and leaning over to catch his breath, then standing up and looking around frantically.  He’d heard once that having a child meant learning to live with your heart outside your body.  Right now that never felt more true.   He saw Blaine running, looking ten years older in his terror, across the street.  He scanned the surroundings, trying to think where on earth Andy could be.  Why hadn’t he come home.  He knew the way.

Ms. Clay was running toward him.  “Any luck?”

Kurt shook his head, trying to think what to do, where to go.  Where would Andy have gone?

“Why – why did Andy leave?” Kurt finally asked.  “What happened?”

“There was an incident in gym class.  He was spoken to about his behavior, and was very upset.  Miss Katie said that she’s noticed some changes in his personality lately, and was planning to call to discuss it with you,” Ms. Clay said, shrugging helplessly.  “This is so unlike Andy.  We’re so sorry.”

Kurt ignored her and focused, thinking about his boy and where he would go if he thought he was in trouble.   Blaine reached them.  “Kurt - - he might not have gone home.  He wouldn’t expect us to be there - - he knows this is usually Aladdin rehearsal day for me.  We didn’t tell him we’d be home; he’d expect us to both be at work, and he doesn’t have a way to get into the apartment without us.  Do you think maybe he went to that playground he likes on the way home?  The one he’s always begging to go to?”

“Maybe,” Kurt said finally.  There was a little playground with painted statues Andy loved to look at and pose for pictures with and pretend to talk to.  He said they were his statue friends.  He might very well go there to confide in them if he was afraid of being in trouble.  But.  “I think I’ll go to Vogue,” he said, and Blaine nodded in agreement before taking off at a sprint back the way he had come.

“You’re going back to work?” Ms. Clay blurted out.

Kurt ignored her and took off at a run; it was just two city blocks to his office and he very often brought Andy there after school if he had work to finish, especially when Blaine had matinees or rehearsals.  He scanned the sidewalk on both sides as he ran, as best he could in the packed midday foot traffic, shoving past well-dressed Manhattanites and never stopped screaming Andy’s name over the din of the cars and the crowd as he ran. 

Finally, One World Trade Center, his building.  He barreled through the glass doors and.  And.  Stopped short, a relief so complete washing over him that he could barely breathe.  Andy.  Standing at the printed directory in his navy blue school gym shorts and white polo, his little buzz-cut head tilted up and trying to decipher the hundreds of names on the directory posted by the bank of elevators.  He turned around and his tear-stained little face crumpled in tears, as Kurt wordlessly dropped to his knees and held out his arms, and Andy ran into them.  Kurt felt the brittle plastic cup in his jacket crack slightly, but couldn’t care less right now … and just hugged his precious little boy close.

 


	23. Questions

“Well, hello, Andy.  I didn’t expect to see you here this afternoon.  Or you, Kurt.  Didn’t you have an appointment this afternoon?  Is that all done?”

Kurt and Andy looked up as one from the computer screen set on Kurt’s enormous glass desk at Vogue.  “I’m afraid something came up that was more important,” Kurt said. 

“Hi, Isabelle,” Andy said, turning his eyes back to the screen and clicking busily on the computer mouse.   “I came to visit Daddy all by myself.”

“Well, aren’t you a big boy,” Isabelle remarked, looking quizzically at Kurt.

“Not big enough to leave school without permission.  Andy, knows now if he wants to see me when  he’s at school, next time, he has to go to the office and ask them to call me, right?”

“Okay,” Andy said, subdued.  “Do I have to go back to school today?”

“Not today.  Papa’s coming to get you and take you home.  I’ll be along in a while, after I make a few stops.”

“Still time to make your appointment?” Isabelle hinted.

Kurt looked at the ruined jacket folded on the sofa in his office ready to go to the dry cleaner’s.  “No, I think that ship sailed, for this month, anyway.”

“Better luck next time, hon.  Breakfast tomorrow?”

“You got it, boss.”  Kurt smiled as Isabelle twinkled away in a swirl of tulle, shutting the office door behind her.

“She’s nice,” Andy observed.  “Wanna see a funny song about a duck?”  He clicked open Youtube.

Kurt took the mouse from Andy’s hand. “Nice try, slick.  But we need to talk about what happened today.”

Andy sighed.  “I got in trouble today with Mr. K.”

“Wait a minute, okay, buddy?  How about you start this story at the beginning.”

“Well.  We were playing dodgeball.”

Kurt’s lips tightened.  “Dodgeball?  Okay.  Then what?”

“Ewan wasn’t playing right.  I got him out and he wouldn’t go stand on the side.  I was mad.  So I hit him with the ball again.”

Kurt nodded quietly.  “Then what happened?”

“Joey hit him in the face with the ball at the same exact time.  I didn’t know he was going to do that.”  Andy hung his head. “Ewan got hurt.  He got bloody on his face.”

“I see.”

Andy shifted uncomfortably, and frowned.  “Joey broke the rule,” he quavered.  “You’re not supposed to throw it above the shoulders.  And Mr. K said we were too rough and made us sit in the corner.”

Kurt was quiet a moment, then chose his words carefully.  “Ewan is the little boy with the purple glasses, isn’t he?  And the straight blonde hair?”  At Andy’s nod, Kurt sighed.  “Andy.  Ewan … Ewan has a disability.  He has a hard time keeping up with some of the other kids, and understanding what he needs to do.”

“Joey said Ewan is a dummy.”

“We don’t use that word,” Kurt said quickly.  “Not about anybody.  Okay?  And it’s really important that you understand and be patient with Ewan from now on.  He can’t help it that things don’t come as easily to him as they do to you, or Joey.  And I think you should apologize when you see him tomorrow.”

“I know.  Mr. K said that too.”

“Well, that’s good.  Mr. K’s right about that much,” Kurt said.    

“I have to go to the potty, Daddy,” Andy said, shifting uncomfortably.  “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, buddy.”  Andy slid off Kurt’s lap and skipped to the private bathroom Kurt had in his office as assistant editor of features, and closed the door after himself.

Kurt took a deep breath, exhausted by the ups and downs of this busy afternoon, and took the quiet moment to glance at his e-mails.  He sat up straighter when he saw a new one from Miss Katie at Andy’s school.  He clicked it open. 

_I’m so glad that you found Andy.  We were all so worried.  I’ve been hoping to speak to you about him for a week or two.  He’s been a bit “off” and not himself.  I think he may be upset about something.  He drew this today and seemed very upset when I asked him about it.  Just a heads up.  I’m here after school today to talk if you have time._

Concerned, Kurt opened the attachment.   He looked at the picture of Andy scribbled out in the corner.  The big smiles on the faces of the orange baby, Rachel, Blaine, and himself.  And he put his hand over his mouth.  The toilet flushed in the bathroom and Andy came back in, tucking in his polo shirt. 

“Did you wash your hands?” he forced himself to say, keeping his voice normal.

“Yep.”  Andy rounded the desk and stopped to look at the screen.  “That’s my picture!” he said. 

“Miss Katie sent it.  Andy.  Why did you draw this baby?”

Andy squatted down and examined his shoes.

“Andy.  Tell Daddy.”

The little boy shrugged.  “I heard you and Aunt Rachel talking.  You’re gonna have a new boy with her.”

“Would you be upset if - - if we had another baby, Andy?”

“I don’t know,” Andy muttered, pulling his laces. 

“You know if another baby comes to live with us, we’ll love you just as much as ever, right?”

“But not as much as you love the new baby,” Andy said, putting his head down on his knees.

“Not true!  I’d love you both the same.” 

Andy looked up skeptically, then dropped his head back down, continuing to pick at his laces.

“Why do you think that?” Kurt persisted.  “Why, Andy?  You love me and Papa the same, even - -“

“That’s different!”  Andy’s face suddenly contorted with anger. “I don’t want to talk about it!” he shouted, jumping up and pushing Kurt with both hands.  “Don’t make me!”

Alarmed, Kurt held Andy by the hands firmly, not letting it go.  This was too important.  “We have to talk about this.  Why is it different?”

The little boy broke down in sobs, and Kurt felt his heart breaking.  He gathered Andy up in his arms and carried him to the couch, and cuddled him until the crying slowed.  “Tell Daddy what’s wrong.”

“I know something bad,” Andy hiccupped.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you’re not my Daddy. Not really,” Andy cried.  “I heard you and Aunt Rachel.  I’m not your boy,” he sobbed.  “And when a new baby comes you won’t want me anymore.”

Kurt froze, and stammered out, “That’s not true, Andy - - I’ll always want you, you’ll always be my little boy!”

There was a long pause, before Andy turned up his face, streaked with tears.   “You promise? I’m your boy – your _real boy?”_

A tap came at the door, and Blaine passed through carrying a cardboard tray of drinks and a paper bag.    “Snack time!  Hey,” he said, his face growing concerned.  He shut the door behind him.  “What’s up, buddy?  It’s okay - - you’re safe now with Papa and Daddy.”

Blaine came and sat next to them and wiped a thumb over Andy’s face, drying his tears. 

“I – I wanted to know if Daddy’s really my father.  You are, right, Daddy?” Andy looked up at Kurt, desperately, searching his face.  “Right?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun


	24. The Truth

Kurt looked down at Andy’s pleading face.  It would be so easy to take away those tears.  To tell Andy what he wanted to hear, and what he wanted to be true.  But he’d never lied to Andy before.  Not once.

He stroked Andy’s arm gently and raised his eyes to Blaine’s.  After ten years together, they could communicate with just a glance, and Blaine nodded his silent encouragement and support.   Kurt reached out an arm and Blaine settled in next to them, one arm over Kurt’s shoulders, and the other around Andy. 

“Andy.  I want you to know, first, that I love you so much.  And part of love is telling the truth, all the time.  Even when it’s hard, and it might hurt.  But … if I tell you the truth all the time, that means you can always trust what I say.  Do you understand?”

Andy nodded slowly, looking back and forth between his fathers.

“You asked me a question, and it has a complicated answer.  But I’ll try to explain, and if you have any questions, you can tell us, okay?”

Kurt drew in a shaky breath.  This was so hard.

“There’s a lot of different kinds of moms and dads.  There’s bio moms, and carrier dads.  That’s the parent who carries you in their belly and grows you.  Some kids have a bio mom, and some have a carrier dad.  Your papa is your carrier dad.  You grew inside him before you were born.  You’ve seen pictures, remember?  When Papa had a big belly?”

“In the family book?”

“Yes.  Well.  Everybody has a carrier dad or a bio mom to grow in.  And everybody has a … a bio dad.  That’s the dad who helps put the baby in the carrier dad or the bio mom.”

“How does he do that?”   Andy snuggled into his dads’ arms, starting to look soothed at Kurt’s calm, quiet explanations. 

“Well.” Kurt smiled a little in spite of himself, and looked over at Blaine, who shrugged helplessly.  “That’s a grown-up conversation and we’ll have it someday.  It’s … kind of a special hug they do to the bio mom or the carrier dad,” Kurt finally said.

“Okay,” Andy said uncertainly.

“And there’s one more kind of mom or dad,” Kurt said, his voice trembling a little.  “It’s.  It’s someone who doesn’t carry the baby in their belly.  And they don’t help put the baby in the belly.  But.  They love and take care of the baby after he’s born.  Sometimes that’s called a stepmother or stepfather, if they’re married to the bio mom or the carrier dad.  Or sometimes, it’s called an adoptive mom or dad.  But.  It’s real, Andy, just as real as a bio mom or carrier dad.  Do you understand?”

“I think so.  But what are you, if Papa is the carrier dad?”

“I’m … I’m not sure, Andy.  The thing is, that … I might be the bio dad.  I gave your Papa that special hug we talked about, so I might be.  But I might be the other kind of dad. We don’t really know, and that’s the truth.”

Andy digested this for a moment.  “But. You’re one of the kinds?” he asked slowly.  “One of the real kinds?”

“Yes.  I’m either your bio dad, or your adopted dad.  And I’m married to your Papa, too, so.   I am your Daddy, and I always will be.  I was there the day you were born, and I promise you, I will be there for you every single day of my life. ”

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s shoulder, and softly added, “Do you have any questions, Andy?”

Andy looked troubled.

“Go ahead, Andy.  You can ask us anything,” Kurt encouraged.

“You said you might be my bio dad.  But you might not be.”

“Yes,” Kurt said, stroking Andy’s short, fuzzy hair.

“But you’re for sure my Daddy no matter what.”

“You’ve got it,” Blaine reassured him.

“That’s good,” Andy said, a pucker in between his eyebrows. “But you said that everybody has a bio dad.  So … if you might not be him … is somebody else …”  Andy’s eyes filled with tears.  “Is somebody else?  Where is he?  Did he … not want to see me?”

Blaine and Kurt looked at each other, alarmed.  “Honey … that’s … we don’t know for sure any of this,” Kurt said, finally.  “And I wanted you, and your Papa wanted you.  Okay?  We love you with all our hearts and I promise you we will always take care of you.”

Andy looked tired suddenly, and rubbed his eyes.  “Okay, Daddy,” he said wearily.  “Can … we not talk about it anymore?  I … wanna go home … please?”

“That’s fine, kiddo,” Kurt said, trying to keep the tears back.  Why had he done this to them?  Why hadn’t he found out the truth, so he wouldn’t have to confuse Andy so much now that he had questions? 

“I’ll take Andy home, then?” Blaine asked, reaching out to cup Kurt’s face with his palm. 

“Yes … I got an e-mail from the principal and another from Miss Katie,” Kurt said.  “They both want to have a parent teacher conference.  I have to go get Andy’s backpack and lunchbox from school, so this afternoon’s as good as any to get it over with.  I’ll go after I make a few calls and answer a few e-mails here.” 

He stood Andy up on the floor in front of the couch, and put a hand on his shoulder.  “So.  I’ll be home by dinnertime.  And if you want, after dinner we can read some more of your Harry Potter book, okay?”

“Okay.  Daddy?” Andy asked, plucking at the hippo brooch on Kurt’s collar.  “I love you.  And I’m glad you’re my daddy.”

“Me too, kiddo,” Kurt answered, pulling him in for a hug, and enjoying the feeling of small arms around his neck.  “Me too.”

 


	25. Meeting About Andy

 

 

 

 

 

The hallways in Andy’s school were festooned with the students’ pictures of their families today.  Kurt spared a glance at some of them as he walked toward Miss Katie’s kindergarten room.  One of the reasons for selecting this school was on ample display.  Many of the family portraits consisted of two men and their children, or two women with their families.  Some with multiple adults, and some with just one parent. 

A large paper sun, printed neatly with “Miss Katie’s Galaxy” was the centerpiece of the kindergarten classroom.   Smaller paper circles in every color of the rainbow, some with rings or moons added on, surrounded the sun.  Each of the children’s names were printed on a planet.  Kurt saw “Ewan G” and “Joey D” and “Millie M”, before finding his son’s name. “Andy H”.  On each side of the door, short written statements “About Me” were hung.   He proudly noted that Andy’s was the longest and had the most extensive vocabulary, though the spelling was a bit dubious.  “I am five and one korters.  I lik to go to football gams with papa.  I lik to mak cookies with daddy.  I am tal.  I want a dog.”  He smiled, tracing the letters with his finger, then sighed and tapped on the door before opening it.  “Miss Katie?”

As he stuck his head in the room, he saw Principal Clay and Miss Katie seated side by side in two of the small child-sized chairs arranged in a circle in the middle of the room, waiting for him, a folder opened between them. “Thanks for coming, Mr. Hummel,” Principal Clay said, closing the folder and placing it in her lap.  “I can’t tell you how sorry we are about the mixup this morning.”

“Well.  I appreciate that,” Kurt said, propping the door open with the doorstop and coming toward them.  He sat down uncomfortably in a third chair facing the two women.  “I presume some policy changes will be made to prevent breakouts in the future?”

“Yes, though - - if  a child is determined to run away from school, it is very difficult to prevent that entirely, Mr. Hummel.  Andy was upset at being punished for bullying a disabled boy in gym class, and - -“

“Hold up.  My son is not a bully,” Kurt objected. 

“Mr. Hummel, it can be difficult for parents to realize that their child is engaging in bullying behavior,” Principal Clay started.  “But it’s very important – our mission here at Harvey Milk Elementary – to create a safe space for all our students, and - -“

Livid, Kurt cut her off.  “I know about the school’s antibullying policies, Ms. Clay.  That’s one of the main reasons Andy goes here.  My husband and I were both bullied – mercilessly – in school back in Ohio.  I assure you Andy did not mean to bully Ewan because of his disability.  He didn’t understand Ewan has special needs, and he was playing within the rules of that barbaric sport your new gym teacher decided to play.  Speaking of which, considering the antibullying policy here - - I’m frankly amazed to hear that dodgeball is even being played.  It’s basically organized, competitive bullying of the smaller, less physically strong children.” 

Kurt was bone-tired, and felt like he'd aged about twenty years today, from being frightened within an inch of his life over Andy being lost, and then having the hardest conversation ever with his son, all within the last two hours, or he wouldn’t ordinarily make such a fuss.   But this was no day for them to try to blame any of this on his little Andy, or to make out as if Andy was at fault in Ewan getting hurt.  It wasn't Andy's fault, it was that - - that gym teacher's.

He sat up even straighter.  “In fact, I’d like to register a formal complaint about this teacher. First he forces the children to torture each other with this brutal sport, then he loses track of Andy and lets him run outside into midday traffic in Manhattan?”

Ms. Clay smirked.  "Mr. Hummel – the gym teacher can hardly be blamed for Andy running out of the classroom.  He had a whole class to supervise.  And he did alert the rest of the staff immediately that Andy had run away.  I suggest you speak to your son about his behavior.  It was completely unacceptable.  Miss Katie tells me he has been out of sorts for a few days now.  Perhaps something is going on at home?“  She withdrew a piece of drawing paper from the folder on her lap, and turned over the picture Andy had drawn, holding it aloft.

Kurt was feeling more angry than ever.  The fact that Andy had been upset about much more serious matters than being put in the corner during dodgeball, was irrelevant and none of their business!  His defensive father instincts were kicking in and he spluttered, “Well, if this Mr. K person hadn’t encouraged the children to throw hard rubber balls bigger than their heads at each other, maybe Andy wouldn’t have accidentally hit Ewan too hard.  And if he’d bothered to listen to Andy, he would’ve found out it was an accident.  So I do blame him.  How do I register a complaint?”

Principal Clay sighed.  “What if I have Mr. K come down here to speak to you about all this?  Maybe we can work this out without resorting to that?  I saw him a minute ago putting away volleyball nets in the gym, so he's still here."

“Mr. K is an excellent teacher.  He’s had to come in and take over all 25 of Ms. Wu’s gym classes in mid-term, and the children really love him,” Miss Katie added softly.  “I’m sure he wasn’t unkind to Andy.   At most, maybe he didn't understand Andy didn't mean it - and I'm sure Andy didn't.  He's a very kind boy.”

“Fine.  I would be glad to have a word directly with this substitute teacher,” Kurt agreed.  He looked down at his nails as Prinicpal Clay picked up the phone on Miss Katie’s desk.

“Dave?” she said into the mouthpiece.  “Andy H’s dad is here and would like to discuss what happened today.  Can you come down?”  She paused.  “Thanks, Dave.”

Kurt tapped the toe of his designer shoe impatiently, as they waited the few minutes in silence. 

“Principal Clay?” a deep voice came from the hall.  Kurt froze.  That voice.

“This is Andy H’s dad.  Mr. Hummel, this is Mr. Karofsky.  Andy's gym teacher.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Dave didn't put it together is explained in the next chapter if anybody is wondering that


	26. Dodgeball for Grownups

Dave’s eyes lit up with recognition, and he broke into a wide smile as he strode forward, right hand outstretched.  “Kurt!  Oh my God, how long’s it been?”

Kurt stood up, trying to rally his shocked senses, and Dave grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously.  “I – I don’t know - - Ohio, I guess?”  Kurt murmured.

“No – there was that one time when I was visiting New York back around - - gee, what year was that - -“

“You two know each other?” Principal Clay asked.

“We went to the same high school!  How wild is that?  I had no idea Andy was your son!  I don’t know most of the kids’ last names, y’know?  Coming in halfway through the term, I just used the class list program Ms. Wu set up on the gym computer, and he was just Andy H,” Dave explained.  “He’s a great kid, Kurt, a little champ.  Great athlete, good attitude.  I assume he’s yours and Blaine’s?  You guys still together?”

“Of course,” Kurt said through gritted teeth. 

“I – I see Blaine’s doing great in the theater.  Saw his big Hedwig billboard, and I hear he’s going to play Aladdin next.  That’s great,” Dave said.

“Mr. Hummel was concerned about the incident today in class, with Ewan, and then what happened afterwards.  But if you’re old friends … “ Principal Clay hinted. 

“Yes,” Kurt said hurriedly. “Dave, I - - think it’s great you’re a gym teacher now.  I’m sure it was all just a mixup today, no need to beat a dead horse.  Could happen to anybody.”  He glanced around and spotted Andy’s cubby against the wall. “I’ll just get Andy’s things and be out of all your way.”

He brushed past Dave and went to the cubbies, taking Andy’s school jacket down off its hook and slinging his backpack over one shoulder.  He turned and waved weakly, and started out of the room, but Dave followed. 

“Lemme walk you out,” he offered.

“I think I can make it out safely,” Kurt said, working hard not to seem upset or flustered, but walking toward the exit.  “Not like the old Bully Whips days when you and Santana had to walk me around the school.”

“Santana Lopez!  There’s a blast from the past.”  Dave grinned good-naturedly.  “You hear from her lately?”   He waved to Principal Clay and Miss Katie and followed Kurt out towards the hallway.

Kurt bit his lip.  “Yes.  I talked to her about a month ago.  She’s still with Brittany of course.  They’re living in LA right now.”  That had been a difficult call to make.  Santana had dodged their calls and refused all their Skype requests. Finally, he and Blaine had been surprised by a return call and, haltingly, had asked if she would be okay with them having a baby with Rachel, since she and Brittany had moved away and all.  Santana had been silent for a full twenty seconds, and he’d been deathly afraid they’d hurt her feelings.  They had been through so much together, the four of them, going through the process of in vitro fertilization and freezing a dozen or so embryos, then the long and arduous process of implantation and pregnancy, all for such brutal disappointment.  They’d had so many hopes, he was a bit sad too, to leave that dream behind.  But then she had chuckled.  _“So Blaine and Rachel babies?  Sure, if you want to have Munchkin babies with giant unibrows, go ahead, Keebler.  I won’t stand in the way of that genetic experiment._ ”  He’d thought it a good sign that she was back to her casual nastiness, though he wished she’d accepted a skype or facetime request so he could see her face and judge how she was, really.  “ _Actually, we’re mixing the spermies together this time.  Gonna roll the dice on who the dad will be,_ ” he’d told her.  _“Oh, God.  Spare me the image of your ‘spermies’, Princess Hummel.  But again, that will be a combination for the ages.  Good luck with that.  It’s sure to be the most melodramatic baby ever.”_ Blaine and Kurt had smiled at each other, relieved, that she sounded so much like herself again.  But when Blaine tried to ask her how she was doing, though, she’d given them the brush-off and hung up in a hurry.  He hoped she was all right.

Dave was asking another nosy question. “And your Dad?”

This man wanted to hit all the sore spots, but if it kept him from making any unfortunate connections or asking any uncomfortable questions, Kurt was all for it.  “He’s had some health issues - - cancer - -“

Dave’s face fell with sympathy.

“But a new treatment came out about two years ago.  It’s difficult, but if he keeps having this new chemo, the cancer should stay under control.  He’s six years out from his diagnosis, so.  Fingers crossed.”

“That’s great.  Give him my regards, okay? Hey, you haven’t asked what I’ve been up to.”

They were almost at the exit.  Kurt forced himself to stay cool, calm.  Unaffected.  “Sorry, Dave - - I assumed you’d finished college, gotten a masters in phys ed, started working here?” he said lightly.  “Did you keep playing football in college?”

“Got my undergrad education paid for that way,” Dave said proudly.  “But I wrecked my knees.  Pro football wasn’t in the cards, and coaching? Well.  I might’ve gone that way, but … teaching little kids seemed more … fulfilling.  And so far I love it.”

“I see,” Kurt said, his hand on the door.  “That’s great.  You - - you seeing anyone?”

“I’m married now.  To the guy I was seeing back when you and I ran into each other in New York that time.  I was in town to see him at his law school, and - -“ Dave stopped suddenly, and Kurt could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

“Gotta go - - Blaine and Andy are waiting for me at home,” Kurt said, shoving the door open with a metallic clang.  “Nice seeing you again, Dave.  Bye now.”  But the door didn’t swing shut behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Dave standing in the doorway, holding it open and staring at Kurt, open mouthed like a caveman, before he yelled out.

“Kurt.  Wait a minute!”

 


	27. Bald Faced

Kurt closed his eyes, drew a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline running through him.  Fight or flight, and flight wasn’t an option.  He straightened as tall as he could and turned with a light smile.  “Is there something else you needed to tell me, Dave?”

Dave jogged down the steps of the school, and stopped a few feet away.  His face was flushed, and he passed a hand over his close-cropped hair, ducking his head down for a moment.

“Dave?” Kurt prompted.  “Is everything okay?”

Finally Dave looked up.  “You tell me.”

“I’m not following you … listen, Dave, I really do need to run, so - -“  he turned to go, but felt Dave’s hand grasp his arm.  He jerked away by reflex.

“Kurt,” Dave said slowly.  “Andy’s five, right?”

He shrugged, though his pulse was racing like a jackhammer, and continued to fake a calm assurance.  “Yeah, Andy’s five, that’s right.  Why do you ask?”

Dave shifted on his giant feet, and fumbled at the whistle on a cord around his neck, then finally spoke.  “I came to New York and saw you five years ago.  With a baby.  You said it wasn’t yours, but - - Andy would already have been born then.”

Kurt swallowed.  Hard.  How to get out of this?  Better double down on the lie from years ago.  “Well, yeah, Andy’d been born, but - - he was - - in the hospital with Blaine, still.  I was babysitting  for my – my teacher - - that day.”  Please don’t ask any details, he thought desperately.

Dave’s face was paling.  “So - - Blaine was the carrier?”

Cursing himself at giving that away, Kurt nodded.  “Yes.  Yeah, Blaine carried Andy.”

“But you didn’t say Blaine was in the hospital, or that you’d had a baby.  Why not?” Dave asked.  “Why, Kurt?”

“I don’t know, Dave, really.  I guess - - it was still a little hard to talk to you.  You _were_ my bully in high school, and - - and then you stole Blaine from me for a while there in college.  I – guess I just didn’t feel like chatting about it.  Blaine had a hard time after the birth, and - - I don’t know.  I guess it just wasn’t your business, and I didn’t want to get into it,” Kurt explained lamely.  Struck by inspiration, he continued.

“And.  Well, I guess there was one more reason.  I know what you’re thinking – that maybe you’re Andy’s father,” he said boldly. 

Dave swallowed visibly and nodded.  “Yeah, let’s lay it out there.  The – the timing - - it - - well.”

Kurt forced a phony chuckle.  “Yeah, I know.  And the truth is we weren’t sure then who Andy’s real dad was.  The blood tests hadn’t come back, and I just thought it was best not to say anything to you about him.  But – I’m his dad, for sure.”

The expression on Dave’s face was hard to read.  Disappointment?  Relief?  Both?

“You’re sure?  The blood test came back with you as the father?”

Kurt nodded, “Yep.   So.  Don’t worry, okay?  Nobody’s going after you for five years of child support here.”

“I wasn’t – it – I wasn’t thinking about that,” Dave protested.  “I just – wasn’t sure if maybe you and Blaine kept something from me.  If - - if Andy were my son, I’d want to get to know him - -“ he paused.

Kurt slapped Dave on the shoulder lightly.  “Well, yeah, but hey -- bullet dodged, right?  I’m sure your husband wouldn’t be thrilled if you had a kid with your ex, am I right?”

Dave hung his head, sighing.  “I don’t know.  We want kids but - - neither of us is a carrier.  So having a kid together isn’t an option for us, like it was for you guys,” Dave said, a sad note in his voice.

“Well, there’s lots of ways to skin a cat,” Kurt said lightly.  “Sorry to scare you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Dave insisted. “Andy’s a great kid.  You and Blaine are lucky.”

“Yeah, we sure are,” Kurt said, looking at his watch.  “Glad to clear that up for you.  Will you look at the time. “  He started backing up.  “Nice catching up and good luck with the new job, Dave.”

Dave nodded.  “Give Blaine my best, okay?”

Suddenly exhausted, Kurt just couldn’t answer that.  He simply nodded, and turned away.

 


	28. Running Away

““Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself most plainly when you need of him. How else could you produce that particular Patronus? Prongs rode again last night,” Kurt read from the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Andy put his hand over the page.

“What does that mean, Daddy?  Why is Harry’s father alive in him?”

Kurt paused and looked down at Andy, who looked troubled.  “Well.  What they mean is that when someone loves us, we carry them in our heart forever.  Like … you know my mother died.  But I can remember her and what she taught me, always.”

He started to pick up the book again, but Andy tapped the page again.  “That’s because you knew her and she loved you.  Right?”

“Yes, that’s … that’s true.  And then one day, Grandpa Burt married your Grandma Carol.  She’s a wonderful stepmother and a wonderful grandmother to you.  Even if she isn’t my bio-mom.”

Andy’s eyes grew thoughtful, and he reached out and shut the book.  “That’s enough for tonight, Daddy.”

Kurt put the book on the side table.  “You know.  Isabelle asked me to go to California for work.  LA Fashion Week is next week – it’s late this year.  I – I said no at first.  I didn’t want to be away from you and Papa a whole week.  But, I’ve thought about it, and it might be a good father-son adventure for us.  What do you think?  Wanna come to LA with Daddy?”

“Sure!  Is it near Disneyland?  Wizarding World?”

“You bet, buddy, and we even could stay after Fashion Week if you want and make a big vacation out of it.  Then we could stop off in Ohio for a while and see Grandma and Grandpa – and your Grandma Pam, too.”

Andy shrieked with delight, then turned somber.  “But there’s school tomorrow.  I’m supposed to apologize to Ewan tomorrow in gym.  Mr. K said so."

“What if you called Ewan on the phone after we get to California?  How about that idea?”

“That would work,” Andy agreed.  “But – what about Papa?”

“Unfortunately, Papa has to work,” Kurt said sadly.  “He’s still doing Hedwig and getting ready for Aladdin, and doing both at the same time, he’s super busy.  I haven’t asked him yet, but I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“I’ll miss Papa,” Andy said wistfully.  “He’s fun.”

“He’s a lot of fun, for sure.  But this way he can focus on the plays he’s doing and we’ll see him in Ohio at Christmas, and travel back together.”

“There’s something else,” Andy said sleepily.  He rubbed his eyes.  “Mr. K will be gone when I get back.  Ms. Wu comes back to work when Winter Break is over, and there’s a party to say goodbye the last day of school before then.  Remember?  I told you about that last week?  You were supposed to bring in cupcakes, and I won’t get to say bye to him.”

“That’s right, you did tell me about the going away party for Mr. K,” Kurt pretended to remember for the first time.  “I tell you what.  I’ll order cupcakes and have them delivered.  Special ones, from Sprinkles, and we can ask them to put sports decorations on.  And you can send him a card from L.A.  A special post card from Wizarding World.  I bet he’d love it.”

“Or I could call him, like Ewan?”

“Hm.  I think he’d like a card better.  We can talk about it in LA.”

“Okay, Daddy.  I love you.  You have the best ideas.”

Kurt gave Andy another cuddle and tucked Barbra into bed.  “Get a good night’s sleep, now.”

Andy sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Andy drifted off, then reached up and turned off the small bedside lamp, sitting in the dark for a bit.  Things were getting too complicated, and it was time to get out of town for a while, until Karofsky was out of the school.  There was too much danger that Andy would say something that might tip off Dave or Miss Katie, who seemed friendly with him.  No.  Best to pull Andy out of there until the coast was clear.  He’d have to get Blaine on board, but.  Blaine almost always went along with anything Kurt suggested, so.  That shouldn’t be a problem. 

He got up quietly and went out the door, flipping on the white sound machine outside in the hallway to blur any noise, before heading down the hall to the kitchen.  Blaine was finishing up the dinner cleanup, and turned to smile at him.  “He took a long time to fall asleep tonight,” he remarked, wiping down the counter.  “I thought after all the drama that he’d be zonked out in twenty seconds.” 

Kurt took the rag from Blaine’s hand and tossed it over the faucet to dry out.  “We have to talk, Blaine.”

“That sounds serious.”  Blaine sat down on a kitchen stool.  “What’s up?”

Kurt pulled up another stool and sat down.

“There’s a major problem at school.”

“The dodgeball?  Kurt, I know how you feel about that, but Mr. K will be gone in a few weeks and it’ll be back to nonviolent gym class stuff like folk dancing and tai chi with Ms. Wu.  I don’t think it’s a big deal.  Andy learned his lesson, I’m sure.”

“Oh, Mr. K is a problem for us, but not for the reason you think.”

“Okay, what are you getting at?”

Kurt reached out a hand and grasped Blaine’s.  “Mr. K is David Karofsky.  I.E. the other candidate for Andy’s father, in case you forgot about that.”

Blaine looked surprised, but not unduly alarmed.  “Really?  Dave’s a teacher now?”  Blaine considered.  “Well, that makes some kinda sense, I guess.  He blew out his knees playing college ball, so.”

“How do you know that?” Kurt demanded, his voice rising a notch.  “Been following his career?”

Blaine swallowed.  “No.  Not – not like that.  I watch college football.  You know that, and – well, I saw the game where he got injured, that’s all.  It was years ago.  Kurt, you can’t seriously be jealous!”

“Not about you,” Kurt said sarcastically.  “About Andy.  If.  God,” he broke down in tears, and Blaine got up hurriedly to put his arms around him. 

“Kurt, I think you’ve built all this into a big deal when it doesn’t have to be.  I think you’re Andy’s biological father, and I just wish you’d let us test Andy and prove it.”

“Why would you think that?  He looks nothing like me,” Kurt sniffled into Blaine’s chest.  “He likes sports –“

“So do I, and so does your dad.  So what,” Blaine demanded.  “He also likes reading, and going to the art museum, and the bakery, and the furniture store with you, doesn’t he?  And he does look like you!  Like you and me, together.  I really believe it,” he finished. 

“The bakery?  I’m sure Dave has been inside his share of bakeries.  And you like art and decorating too.  That’s no proof he gets any of that from me.  You’re seeing what you want to see.  He doesn’t look like me.  He looks like you, only big for his age.  Like.  Like Dave,” Kurt said helplessly, wringing his hands.  “I just know, he’s Dave’s.”

“If he is, that doesn’t have to change anything, Kurt.”

“But what if it does! I just - - I love him so much, Blaine.  And I can’t – I can’t let Dave be part of our lives, I can’t.  It’s too painful.  Not with our past.“

“Well.  So far Dave hasn’t put it together, I guess.  Did you talk to him?”

Kurt hid his face against Blaine’s chest and pulled around his waist tighter.  “Kind of.”  He rubbed his face against Blaine’s shirt.  “Yes.  And he was suspicious.”

Blaine was quiet a moment, then gently freed himself from Kurt’s arms, and tipped up Kurt’s chin to look in his eyes.  “What – what happened, Kurt?”

“I told him.  I told him Andy isn’t his.  That we took a blood test and he isn’t,” Kurt faltered.  Blaine looked grave, and Kurt blurted out, “I was – I was cornered, Blaine!  But I don’t regret it.  I know the part about the blood test wasn’t true, but – but I _am_ Andy’s father.  I am!”

“Yes.  You are.  You’ve raised him since the day he was born,” Blaine agreed.  “I don’t get the big problem here, and why you’re insisting on not finding out the truth and dealing with it.  Nothing will change Andy’s feelings for you.  What’s the worst that could happen?  Dave wants visitation?  Is that the end of the world?  We were going to share custody of the baby we almost had with Santana and Brittany, and you were okay with that.”

“That was different!  Brittany and Santana - - they - -“.  He fell silent.  “They never hurt me the way Dave has.  They didn’t threaten to kill me.  They didn’t take you away from me.  And I trust them never to come between me and my son,” he sobbed.  “I don’t trust him, Blaine!  Please, don’t go back on your promise!  You promised he would be our baby, just yours and mine!”

“I know that, I know I promised not to tell Dave,” Blaine tried to reason with him.  “But the cat is half out of the bag at this point, baby, don’t you see?  Andy already knows half the truth.  Dave is there in the school, and he’s suspicious.  This is on the verge of blowing up in our faces. Maybe we need to find out if all this is even an issue, and if it is, then deal with it head-on.”

“No,” Kurt shook his head.  “I don’t want to.  You promised me,” he begged.  “No blood test.  Dave is not in our lives.  He bought the story I told him, it’s over.”

“Andy goes to school there, it’s not over,” Blaine sighed. 

“About that.  I – I think I want to go to Los Angeles for Fashion Week after all,” Kurt faltered.

Blaine blinked. “Okay, that’s a change of topic.  I thought we agreed you’d skip it this year, since I have a show in rehearsal and one in performances right now.  I can’t handle Andy’s schedule on top of that without help.”  He sighed.  “But - - you've seemed really tired and off for a while now- -"

"Thanks," Kurt muttered. "Everybody likes to hear they look like shit."

"You don't look like shit, you're beautiful. But you do look tired. And your appetite has been off. You hardly ate anything tonight."

"I guess - the stress from trying to have a baby with Rachel - - and work's been busy - - I don't know. It's been stressful. And now this ..."

"You've been picking up a lot of slack with Andy since I started Aladdin rehearsals, too," Blaine said regretfully. "And you haven't had a vacation in a while. All I'm saying is if you need a break - - maybe my mom can - -“

“No, no – you don’t have to get your mom out here,” Kurt said, drying his eyes on his sleeve. “I can take Andy to LA – make a vacation of it.  You’d be able to focus on work for a couple weeks – and - -“

“And you’d keep Dave away from Andy until Ms. Wu’s maternity leave is over,” Blaine finished.  “Kurt.  I really think this is a mistake.  But … I promised,” he said, resigned.  “If you’re okay with Andy missing two weeks of school, and you’re set on keeping this situation up in the air, fine.  I love you and I’ll keep my promise to you.  But this problem isn’t going away in two weeks, and someday we may have to explain all this to Andy.  Keep that in mind while you’re running away from Dave Karofksy.”

 

 

 


	29. Curves Ahead

_Calabassas, California_

 

The California sun blazed overhead, but the wind whistled through Kurt's hair as he drove down the freeway in the bright red convertible Andy had talked him into renting for the two weeks in Los Angeles.  Kurt was too cautious to have the top all the way down while on the freeway, no matter how Andy begged, with his son in the car.  But the sunroof was open, and the soundtrack to Aladdin was blaring on the car's sound system and he and Andy were singing along at top voice.   He and Andy were having an amazing time in California.  The fashion shows were mostly in the evenings, and Kurt had found an amazing babysitter to stay with Andy at the hotel while he worked.  That left most of the day to play.  They'd already been to Wizarding World, Disneyland, and now it was time to go pay a very special visit to some dear friends.

"Santana and Brittany are going to be so surprised," Kurt said, pulling over to the side of the road and parking there.  He grinned at Andy in the car seat in the back, winking at him over his sunglasses.  Andy pulled down his own small sunglasses and winked back.  "They have no idea we're even in California, isn't that fun, Andy?" 

"It's like a surprise party, except we're gonna walk in and yell surprise, and we brought cake, right, Daddy?"

Kurt nodded.  "You got it, kiddo.  Let's go."  

"I'll carry the cake," Andy offered, sliding out of the car door onto the lawn.  "Look, Daddy!  Unicorns!"

Kurt handed the cake box to Andy, and glanced at the plastic unicorns scattered across the manicured green lawn, in complete contrast to the rest of the condominium units up and down the cul-de-sac. Brittany's doing, no doubt.  "Yes.  They're ... nice, aren't they.  C'mon, before they look out here and ruin the surprise."

He and Andy tiptoed, giggling, up the walkway to the door.  

"You wanna ring the bell, kiddo?"  Kurt held the box by the string and let Andy reach up with one hand to ring the bell, before returning the box to Andy's eager hands.   

They waited expectantly for a minute.

"Should I ring it again?" Andy asked.  "Maybe they're busy."

"I hope not," Kurt said, grimacing.  The very thought.  But there were two cars in the driveway, so ... maybe they were 'busy' and he should just leave the cake and a note to call when they were decent.  He was considering what to do when he saw a curtain flutter in the bay window, and a blonde ponytail bob in and out of sight behind it.  "What the -- Brittany?" he murmured.  

"Wait!  I hear music! From around back, Daddy!" Andy squealed.

"You're right ... sounds like Mercedes' new single," Kurt remarked.  "Maybe Santana's back there."

"I'll go see!" Andy shoved the box into Kurt's hands and took off at a run along a paved path to a gate beside the house.  He swung it open and disappeared through, Kurt following behind.  

Stepping carefully while balancing the cake, Kurt rounded the back corner of the house and stopped, confused.  Andy was running toward a lounge chair, where Santana was laying out by the pool, in a very skimpy red bikini.  At Andy's excited calls, she took off her sunglasses and stood up to hug Andy, and there was no doubt possible after that.  

"You're pregnant," Kurt said, stunned.  The box dropped from his grasp and the cake toppled out, rolling on its side to a stop in the grass.  "But - how?"

 

 

_Manhattan_

The bell rang, once, twice, and a third short ring, followed by a long, sustained blaring sound.  Blaine groggily sat up and grabbed at the alarm clock, before realizing the sound was coming from the door.  It was eight-twenty, a few minutes before he was going to wake up anyway, for another grueling day of rehearsals for one show and performances in another.  He groaned at the insistent ringing. He wondered, as he staggered out of bed, why the hell he and Kurt were paying high rents for a doorman if not to get a little warning before somebody showed up at the door.  He pulled on his robe and padded to the front door, and peered through the peephole. 

A pudgy middle-aged man he’d never seen before smiled genially at him and waved a clipboard. 

“Er.  I think you have the wrong apartment,” Blaine said loudly. 

 “Are you Blaine Anderson?”

“Yes, but –“

“I have a delivery for you, then.  Special delivery, from Kurt Hummel.”

Blaine felt a strange tingling sense of suspicion.  “Why didn’t you just leave it with the doorman?”

 “He musta been on break.  Can you just open the door so I can get your signature on this and leave, sir?”

The instant Blaine had the door open, the man shoved an envelope into his hand.  He looked Blaine up and down, checking off a series of boxes on a form on his clipboard, and nodded.  “You’ve been served.”  

 Blaine looked down at the envelope in his hand, and the man tipped his finger to his forehead and sauntered off.  Mystified, Blaine shut the door and tore open the envelope.   His eyes bulged as he skimmed the contents.  "Paternity petition … concerning Burt Anderson Hummel, a minor child … David Karofsky v. Blaine Anderson … Family Court …"  Oh no.

 “Upon information and belief, I may be the father of the above-named child and am submitting this petition to request an order determining the paternity of the child,” Blaine read, his hands shaking. His face burned hot with humiliation as he continued reading farther down the petition, “I had sexual intercourse with the above-named Respondent during a period of time beginning …”  He shut his eyes, then skipped ahead.  “I am requesting an order for genetic testing to determine the paternity of the child …”

Blaine dropped the paper on the coffee table, and sat down on the couch, pressing his hands against his face.  Dave hadn’t even called to talk to him before dropping this paternity lawsuit on him out of the blue.  But, he supposed, he didn't exactly have the moral high ground here.  

And it's not like it would have mattered if Dave had called him first.  He had chosen his side years ago between Kurt and Dave … between the love of his life and the man who had been there to help him survive when Kurt had thrown their love away.  What he had with Dave could never compare to what he and Kurt felt for each other, but Dave had been kind and loving during their time together.  He'd always felt uneasy about betraying Dave, by giving in to Kurt’s demands not to test Andy.  It felt dishonest, disloyal, but, Kurt was his husband. 

He had chosen Kurt, and would always choose Kurt.   

But now.  Looked like their choosing days were over; Dave obviously meant business and would find out the truth.  He studied the paper in front of him.  From what he could make out, some kind of response was required in three weeks.  First thing to do, was to call a lawyer, as soon as possible, and find out what all this meant.  What his rights were, what Dave’s rights were.  He could text Sebastian for a recommendation; he was a hot-shot corporate lawyer now but probably would be able to refer him to a family lawyer.  

Then.  He’d have to tell Kurt that his worst nightmare was coming true.         


	30. The Turn of the Wheels

Santana patted Andy on the head and straightened up to face Kurt, taking her sunglasses off and meeting his eyes.  "This isn't what it looks like, Kurt." 

"Really.  So how do you explain that belly?  You swallowed a beach ball?"

"Daddy!"  Andy hissed.  "You're not supposed to say anything when somebody's fat!  It hurts their feelings!"

Kurt started at the sound of someone tearing down a flight of stairs behind him, and a sweet voice shrieking, "Santana!  Kurt and Blaine Jr. are here!"  The back door to the condo flew open and Brittany tumbled out onto the patio, then stopped and looked guiltily at Kurt.

"Hi, Brittany!" Andy called,  running past Kurt to Brittany for another big hug.  The slender girl knelt and flung out her arms to welcome him.  

"Hi yourself, Junior!  Look how big you are!" Brittany exclaimed,hugging a delighted Andy to her cheek, and smiling brightly until her eyes caught Kurt's.  She dropped her gaze, turning back to Andy, who watched her adoringly.  "So how's kindergarten?"

"Great."  Andy looked shyly into Brittany's bright blue eyes.  "I like math the best."

"Me too!" 

"We brought cake, but Daddy dropped it on the ground."

Kurt drew a deep breath.  "Brittany.  Could ... you please take Andy inside so I can talk to your wife alone?"

Brittany's wide, elfin eyes turned to Santana, who nodded.  "We have some nice cookies inside.  Britt made them yesterday.  Would you help her get some and your Daddy and I will come in, in a little while?"

"Okay," Andy said, happily taking Brittany's hand and heading inside with her, swinging their arms between them.  Santana and Kurt stood silently watching them go, and waiting until the door shut, before Kurt turned and leveled a look at Santana, who looked back steadily.

"Santana," Kurt finally said.  "Who's your baby's father?"

 

 

_Manhattan_

 

Karla put the final touches on Blaine's reconfigured eyebrows, as he tried to pull himself together enough to go on as the cruel and hilarious Hedwig at his matinee performance.  Sebastian was perched on the arm of a recliner in the corner of the dressing room, skimming over the paternity petition.

Sebastian waited until Karla left.  "So.  My unspoken suspicions have been proven correct, after all this time, and Dave may be Andy's dad," Sebastian said, looking up from the petition. He shook his head.  "I still can't believe you and Dave got it on, when you never gave me a call either time Kurt dumped you.  First that Eli C thing, then Dave, and I never got so much as a tumble.  It's enough to give me an inferiority complex."

Blaine shrugged.  "I think your ego's strong enough to handle getting turned down one time in your life.  And if we'd ever had sex, then we might not have stayed friends."

"That's right," Sebastian remarked, tossing the petition on the table.  "Kurt wouldn't have liked it.  And he's certainly the one wearing the pants in your relationship."  He eyed Blaine's miniskirt.  "And not just literally; also figuratively."

"That's not true.  Not  - not really."  His costume assistant rushed in with an enormous shoebox, knelt at Blaine's feet and helped him slip on the gold platform boots.  "We have an equal relationship."

"Sure you do."  

The costume assistant finished tugging on the second lamé boot and reminded Blaine that showtime was in fifteen minutes.  After he stood up and took his leave, Sebastian continued, "Okay, Mr. Equal Relationship. Tell me.  Whose bright idea was it not to test that baby back when he was born, and to keep Dave in the dark all this time?"

Blaine looked in the mirror intently, squinting as if concentrating on his makeup.

"Right," Sebastian said sarcastically.  "Well, I haven't studied family law since law school, but even I can tell you that was a bone-headed move, and it's not going to win you any points in family court if Dave decides to go for visitation, or custody."

"What?" Blaine spun around in his makeup chair, and stared at Sebastian.  "Custody?  But - - but Andy's lived his whole life with me and Kurt!  Would the court really take him away from us, and - and send him to a total stranger?  How can that be the law?"

"I doubt it, but one thing that courts hate is when one parent takes steps to cut another parent out of a child's life.  And then there's ...  _this_ , on top of it." Sebastian indicated Hedwig's costume.  "I mean, I think you're hot as hell, Killer, and I get that it's Broadway, not a drag strip club, but ... it's not the most traditional profession.  And Dave, he's a teacher.  That's as conventional and safe as it gets.  This Jim Perry guy he's married to,  who's handling this case for him?  I knew him back in law school."  He grinned.  "Slept with him a few times."

 Blaine grimaced.  

Sebastian shrugged.  "He's a pretty big deal in the family court field now.  That'll give him an edge in court, not to mention, their legal fees will be way lower than yours.  I'd handle it for free for you, but ... I don't really do this kind of law.  You've got to hire a good family lawyer, and that'll cost."

"If Dave tries to take Andy away, we'll fight him, no matter the expense," Blaine said, but he was getting frightened.  He'd figured worst case scenario, they would have to let Dave have visitation.  He'd never considered the possibility that Dave would try to win custody.  He looked in the mirror at the grotesque drag queen he turned into every night.  What if the judge disapproved of the profane Hedwig?  "Should I quit this show, Seb?  Is it really going to make a problem in court?"

"Hey, Killer, don't worry about it until you talk to a family lawyer.  And hey, there's stuff you can use against them, too.  I mean, really?  Back in high school he was unstable - violent, even - -"

The room was feeling close, stuffy, and Blaine's stomach started doing flips.  Using Dave's past against him?  The thought made him ill. And it wasn't like he didn't have ... issues ... himself in college. Depression, so crippling he'd been unable to leave his bed at its worst. Dave had understood that about him, because he'd been through it himself, and they'd gotten close talking about that struggle that they had in common. He'd cried in Dave's arms, despairing that he would ever be happy again ... and taken comfort in Dave's inspirational story of overcoming his emotional problems. How could he turn on Dave in that way? But how could he hold back anything if it meant not losing Andy? "I - I have to get ready to go on," he whispered.  

"Sure thing, Killer.  I'll call my buddy in the family law department in our firm, get you in first thing tomorrow.  Slept with him too, and he'll take good care of you for me."  Sebastian started toward the door.  "Hey, any chance I might get picked for a car wash tonight?"  He ducked as Blaine threw a towel at his face, then tossed it back and waved on his way out.  


	31. Resistance

_Calabassas_

 

"Sit down, Lady Fairchild," Santana gestured toward the patio table, where a carafe and a stack of paper cups were set out on a tray.  "Pour me an iced tea."

Santana picked up a robe and slipped into it as Kurt sloshed iced tea into two cups.  Santana came to sit at the table, taking a long drink from her cup while Kurt sat opposite her.  

"I'd assume you went to a sperm bank, or got another friend involved, but then why wouldn't you have just told us?" Kurt asked, finally.  "I mean, we actually called and asked your permission to move on with another surrogate, why didn't you just say you were already pregnant and not to worry about you?"

"Because I know you guys.  You'd worry.  And I didn't want to say anything about this until."  Santana's beautiful eyes filled with tears.  "I didn't want to tell you guys, because it was so hard last time on everybody.  I failed all four of us.  And after a few months, I wanted to try again ... Brittany wanted to take another chance.  But I couldn't bring myself to tell you guys.  I'm afraid of jinxing it.  Of letting you guys down again.  I made Brittany promise not to tell you guys until after the baby comes."

Kurt set the cup down and gripped the arms of his chair, trying to keep from freaking out.  He was feeling physically dizzy and nauseous, whether from the heat, the oversweet tea, or the unraveling enormous news, he couldn't say.  "Why would you be letting me and Blaine down, Santana.  Whose baby is that?"

The tears were slipping down Santana's face now, even as she blinked fiercely to contain them and scrubbed at them with the back of her hand.  "You know it's one of the embryos from before.  I couldn't leave them there, frozen forever," she wept.  "When the three months was up after.  The stillbirth."  She stopped and swallowed hard.  "I went back to the fertility clinic and had the three extras implanted."

He didn't know where to start with this information, and sat with his mouth gaping.   

Finally, he choked out, "You have three of Blaine's babies inside you?"

She shook her head, still wiping tears away.  "No ... no, just like last time, only one of them actually took.  But she's Blaine's, yes."  She blinked away the last vestiges of tears and poured another cup of tea.  "So.  Did it work out with Rachel?"

"Did. It. Work out.  With  _Rachel_ ," Kurt nearly shouted.  "Santana, you let us go forward with that when you knew you were already pregnant?  What the heck!  What -- what were you thinking?"

"So that's a yes?  There's a HummelBerry baby on the way?"

"No.  It hasn't - something came up and - - Santana!  Were you going to tell us this, ever?  And -- when are you moving back to New York, so we can help raise - - it's a girl?"

Santana nodded.  "She's a girl, but.  Well.  We moved out here at first for a change, you know.  And yeah, so I could just concentrate on the pregnancy and not have you guys worrying and hovering over me the whole time.  And so if anything happened, you wouldn't get hurt again.  You'd never even know."

Kurt squeezed the empty paper cup in his fist.  "You expect me to believe you hid out here for what - six months of your pregnancy - -?"

"I'm about seven months," Santana admitted.

"- - to protect me and Blaine?" 

Santana waved a hand at him.  "It's true whether you believe it or not, Hermey," she said crankily.  

They sat together in silence for a moment stretching into a minute, then two.  There was an undercurrent of tension so thick between them it was virtually palpable.  "You didn't answer my second question.  When are you coming back to New York."

There was a light breeze on the patio and it stirred the leaves on the cedar trees lining the back yard, sending their scent floating on the air.  "We had every intention of moving back once the baby was big enough to travel."  Santana sighed.  "The thing is, Brittany got cast on Dancing With the Stars as a pro dancer.  She starts shooting around the time I'm due.   It's a great opportunity for her, and.  Well.  We're staying here." 

 

_Manhattan_

Sebastian's law office was beautifully appointed with marble flooring, mahogany furniture and paneling, and framed black-and-white photographs of New York City landmarks.  As Blaine sat waiting with his old high school frenemy in the waiting area, he watched a woman come by pushing a cart carrying enormous floral arrangements of roses and lilies, and dragging a garbage can behind her.  He watched as the woman took a similar arrangement from the coffee table in front of him and toss it in the garbage, and replace it with another nearly identical one.  She moved about the room, replacing hundreds of dollars' worth of flowers from the side tables and nooks in the walls, before placing the garbage can on the cart and wheeling it away.  Blaine looked down at his hands, not so much impressed, as depressed, at the amount of money that must be made from the misery and troubles of others in this place.

"You okay, Killer?" Sebastian said, nudging him.  

"I just. Miss Kurt and Andy so much.  Maybe I should talk to Kurt before I see the lawyer," Blaine said uncertainly.  "He might have questions - -"

"Here's Mike," Sebastian said, indicating with a tilt of his head toward the hallway, where a handsome, red-headed young man in a bespoke three-piece suit was saying goodbye to what looked like another client.  She was crying, and Mike was patting her encouragingly on the arm.  More misery that people couldn't handle on their own.  Like him.  He'd messed up everything so badly, that now someone he'd cared about a lot at one time was actually suing him. 

"I can't believe this is happening.  This is ... all my fault," he whispered.  "Kurt and Andy.  They're going to get hurt because I was so weak - - I went back to Dave that last time -"

"Well, look at it this way.  If Dave turns out to be the dad, then Andy wouldn't be here if you hadn't," Sebastian pointed out.  

Blaine blew out a long breath of air, and drew in another one, slowly.  Sebastian was right about that.  He couldn't regret anything that had brought Andy into their lives.  Mike said a final goodbye to his other client and was approaching them.

"Hey Seb.  And here's the famous Blaine Anderson you're always on about.  I'm Mike O'Connell."  Blaine recognized a light, but distinct Cork accent.  

Blaine smiled weakly and stood to shake Mike's outstretched hand.  

"I have to make a confession.  Something I haven't even told Seb here.  You and I met once before.  In fact, we've made out," Mike smiled.  At Blaine's confused look, he added, "You picked me for the stage-side kiss at Hedwig two weeks ago."  

"Oh.  I - well," Blaine stammered.  This was awkward. 

Sebastian crossed his arms indignantly.  "You have  _got_ to be kidding me, Killer.  Am I the only gay man in Manhattan who won't even get a taste?"

"Now Seb, don't begrudge me.  It's not like you haven't gotten a taste of enough of gay Manhattan yourself.  Including yours truly, but we don't need to stir all that drama up again."

Blaine looked down at his hands.  They were shaking, holding the paperwork the receptionist had him fill out.  "Guys ... the thing is ...I'm not really up for banter right now," he said softly.  "I need to know how to protect my family."


	32. Options

_Calabassas_ _, California_

 

Kurt stared at Santana.  "You- that's it?  You just decide you're staying in California?  But what about our agreement?  That we'd raise the baby together?"

The door to the condo opened and Brittany stuck her head out cautiously.  "Um. Kurt?  Blaine Jr. is watching TV up in our room, is that okay?"

"That's fine," Kurt said, still staring at Santana.  

Brittany came toward them, with that unique gait that seemed almost like floating on air, carrying a plate of flower-shaped cookies.  "Is everything okay?  You both look super-mad."

"I'm not.  I'm not mad!" Kurt insisted. "I just.  I want to know how we're going to raise a little girl together when Blaine and I live in New York and you two live in California!  This wasn't what we agreed to when Blaine donated his sperm!  We had an agreement!"

"We'll just raise her bi-coastally.  That works for me.  Maybe that's because I'm bisexual, but is that a problem for everybody else?" Brittany asked, brandishing the plate of cookies in front of Kurt.

"You had no right to take those embryos out of the state," Kurt insisted.  "Not when the whole agreement was based on all of us raising the child together."

"So you expect us to be the ones to uproot ourselves and move back to New York?  For Britt to give up her first really big break?  If you want to be in the same state with our daughter, then  _you_ move!"

"Blaine just got cast in Aladdin! As _Aladdin!_ He's under contract, he can't just pick up and move!  He'd be finished on Broadway!  And ... Andy's in school, and I have a job too!  And _we_ weren't the ones who changed everything around behind the others' backs!"  Kurt felt dizzier and dizzier, like he couldn't breathe, and the nausea was intensifying.

"Maybe you need a drink, you look weird," Brittany said hesitantly.  "Like you're gonna throw up or pass out."

"I'm. Fine," Kurt gulped.  "So what's your plan for the future, Santana?  You raise our baby out here and we get to see her on Skype?"

"We can work something out, but, yes, we're staying in California for Brittany's career right now.  I'm going to be a stay-at-home mother."

Kurt fought off another wave of dizziness, while picturing Santana in one of her signature tube-top dresses at a mother's playgroup or at a PTA meeting.  "But what about me and Blaine?"

"When she's big enough to travel, I can bring her for a visit while Brittany's on hiatus from Dancing With the Stars," Santana offered.  "That's plenty of time to spend with her."

"You'll leave her with us?" Kurt pressed.

Santana's face looked tired suddenly.  "I don't want to talk about this right now.  We have to wait until the baby comes.  This is bad luck, you're going to jinx everything, don't you see that?" she cried.  Brittany's soft face turned hard, and she quickly went to stand behind Santana's chair and slip her arms around her.  Santana turned her face against Brittany's waist.

"You need to go, Kurt.  You're upsetting her and she can't be upset.  Please go," Brittany said firmly.  "Go get Andy and let me take care of Santana and our little girl."

"Brittany, I don't want anybody to be upset, but we need to figure all this out," Kurt pleaded.

"Not today we don't.  There's time to talk about everything, and I promise you," Brittany insisted.  "You won't be cut out of her life.  I want her to have all the love.  But what our family looks like, how it'll work, well, that's going to be something we work on some other time."  She gently tugged at Santana's arm and helped her to stand up, her arm supporting around Santana's waist.  "Santana's going to go rest now.  We'll send Blaine Jr. down."

 

_Manhattan, New York_

 

"So there's no way around it.  You'll have to undergo the paternity test," Mike said.  "Then, if it turns out Mr. Karofsky is the child's father, he has the right to petition for visitation and custody.  Of course, you have the right to petition for child support, but if he wins custody, so will he."

"I don't care about money, not now," Blaine pleaded. "What's the odds of Dave getting custody?"

Mike sighed.  "Not that high.  In your favor, you're his carrier parent.  The courts tend to favor leaving the child in situations like this with the carrier parent, and minimize the disruption for the child."  He toyed with a pen in his hands.  "But against you - - you've interfered with Mr. Karofsky's visitation or custody rights for five years, and created a situation where he's had no contact in all that time, through no fault of his own.  You get in front of certain judges, they're going to see that as a problem they need to fix by giving really generous visitation, or even joint custody, to Mr. Karofsky and Mr. Perry.  But we may be able to forestall all this by being cooperative now and trying to work something out, a compromise, that everybody can live with."

"So, what's the first step?  Contact Dave and his husband?"

"I'd recommend that.  I can reach out to Mr. Perry and we can agree on a neutral lab to do the genetic testing.  Hopefully for you, your husband is the father, and this ends there.  If not, at least we've gotten off to a good start with the litigation, and can build on that.  There's really no point in arguing against a blood test, there's no chance the Court will deny that request."

Blaine's phone rang, blaring out Kurt's ring tone.  He looked at it, and up at Mike and Seb in turn.  "It's Kurt.  We'd better get him in on this," he said.  He flicked on the phone and put it on speaker, but before he could say anything, Kurt's piping voice called out.

"Blaine!  Blaine, I - - Blaine - we -- something's happened - - we need a lawyer!"


	33. Consultation

"I'm at the lawyer's," Blaine said, confused.  "But how'd you know about what happened?"

"How'd  _you_ know?" Kurt demanded.  "I just left Santana's!"

Blaine looked at Sebastian and Mike, then took the phone off speaker, turning to talk privately to Kurt.  "Baby, what are you talking about?"

"Yes.  The baby," Kurt shouted.  "I just came from Santana's!  But how did you know?  Have you been keeping a secret from me?"

"I really don't know what  _you're_ talking about," Blaine said, desperately.  This appointment was costing $250 an hour and they didn't need a who's on first routine taking up valuable time.  "Is Andy near you?"

"No.  We went back to the hotel and I'm at the pool.  He's swimming.  Did Brittany call you?"

Blaine couldn't figure out what Kurt was talking about.  Casting a look over his shoulder at Sebastian and Mike, he explained patiently, "I'm here because I got served with a summons this morning.  Dave's suing me in court to find out if he's Andy's father.  I'm at the lawyer's office finding out what to do."

"He did what?" Kurt gasped.  "No - - he - - Blaine.  What - -"

"Let me put you on speaker, okay?  You can hear what the lawyer's suggesting."  

"On speaker?  O - okay - -"

Mike called out toward Blaine's cellphone, "Mr. Hummel?  This is Mike O'Connell.  I'm a lawyer meeting with your husband about the paternity petition."

"What's a paternity petition?" Kurt asked faintly.  "Is that - is that to find out - - who Andy's father is?"

"That's right, Mr. Hummel.  Here's the plan - - " MIke started, but Kurt cut him off.

"I have to go.  I - I have to go.  I don't feel - I'm sick," the tiny voice came over the line.  "I can't handle this right now - -"

"Kurt?  Are you all right?  This is Blaine.  You sound horrible - honey, I know this is bad, but we knew this was a possibility.  Dave wants to force us to have Andy tested, and Mike says we have to do it.  But has a plan for how to deal with all this going forward.  Let us tell you about it?"

The line was quiet.

"Kurt?"

"I know how to deal with this.  And with another problem that just cropped up.  Get on a plane and come here," Kurt said.  "Don't have the test, just - just come here.  We - we'll move to LA.  And - there's another thing you need to know, another reason to come.  You're - going to be a father again.  Santana's pregnant."


	34. Consultation Part Two

Mike perked up and shook his head, "Mr. Hummel.  I have to advise - strongly - against any flight from the state when there is a pending paternity application.  The Court will look very unfavorably on that, and decisions could be entered in your husband's absence that can be enforced across state lines.  Unless you want to be a family of fugitives, that's not going to be the course you should take."

"Kurt," Blaine pleaded.  "We have to stop running from this."

"It isn't running away from Dave.  Not totally.  I just told you Santana's pregnant with one of the embryos from your sperm donation.  They have no intention of coming back to New York for the foreseeable future.  If we want to be part of that baby's everyday life, we need to move here."

"When's Santana due?" Blaine asked.  

"I - think she said she was seven months along - -"

"Well, that's two months from now.  Right now, there's a situation we need to focus on with Andy.  The house is on fire, Kurt, we need to put this out before we worry about a fire that won't happen for eight weeks."

"If a house is on fire, you get out of it," Kurt insisted.  "I know you have your play, but - -"

"I don't care about that," Blaine cut him off.  "I'd quit both plays today if I thought it would solve this, but it won't.  What we're trying to tell you is we can't leave New York, we can't ignore this petition, without risking losing Andy.  I won't do that.  I need you to come back here right away, so we can do this paternity test  _now_ , Kurt.  Get this out in the open and deal with it.  If - - if Dave wants visitation, we won't be able to leave New York, you have to realize that."

"But what about the baby we're having with Santana?  Don't you care about that little girl?" Kurt sounded completely overwhelmed and out of control.  Blaine bit his lip, starting to get frightened.  

"Of course I care, but that baby isn't even here yet.  We have to deal with one crisis at a time, Kurt!"

There was another deadly silence, and then Kurt spoke quietly.  "I was planning on going to see my family at Christmas.  Can we please ask them to put this off until after that?  Give me - give me one more Christmas as Andy's father?  Give one more Christmas to my father as his grandpa?  Please?"

Mike shrugged.  "Technically, we don't have to do the test until the Court orders it, which could be months from now.  If we offer to do the test before the Court even rules - - say, right after the first of the year, the results usually come in about a week.  That would actually be something they'd probably go for, to get things resolved quicker."

"Kurt, I think this is too much stress on you.  You're not - acting like yourself, sounding like yourself.  Wouldn't it be better just to get this over with?" Blaine asked.  

"When I get back, I'd like to have a consultation with you, Mike," Kurt said, his voice dead and toneless.  "About the agreement we had with a couple we know - two women - to have them carry a baby and raise it together.  They're going back on the deal and moved to the West Coast."

  
"I kind of figured that," Mike said.  "If you have any paperwork or a written agreement, bring that in and I can take a look at all the specifics, and what your options are to get visitation or custody, or force them to move back to New York."

  
"We should think about that, Kurt.  Santana and Brittany are our friends -- the mothers of our child.  We need to try to work things out amicably if we can.  I don't want there to be bad blood with them too.  It's not good for the kids," Blaine said earnestly.

"That's good advice," Mike agreed.  "But I'd be glad to go over your legal options when you get back from the holidays.  Mr. Anderson, you can make an appointment about that on your way out.  I'll reach out to Perry and offer a DNA test after the first of the year if we can adjourn the petition until after then.  I'd also suggest a four-way, or I guess in this case a five-way conference."

"Sounds enticing," Sebastian muttered from the corner.

"Who's that?" Kurt demanded.  "Is that meerkat Sebastian Smythe there?  Blaine, did you tell him this - situation?"

"Calm down, Betty White.  I'm bound by the strict rules of lawyer-client confidentiality.  Blaine came to me in a professional capacity."  He paused, then softened his tone.  "Kurt, I know you and I haven't seen eye-to-eye at times, but - -"

"Interesting choice of words.  Blaine still gets pain in his eye from that trick you pulled in high school."

"But.  I just want to help the two of you.  Honestly," Sebastian finished.  

"Getting back to the topic," Mike cut in.  "A four-way conference often takes place in matrimonial actions.  The two spouses, and their lawyers, sit in a room and try to hammer out an agreement.  Nothing that's said can be used against anyone later.  In this case, it would be you two, me, Mr. Karofsky and Mr. Perry in a room, trying to figure out what's best for Andy."

"I'd love to be a fly on that wall," Sebastian whispered.  "Hummel's going to cut both of them into ribbons."

"Fine, whatever we need to do," Kurt said.  Blaine's heart ached at how defeated Kurt sounded.  "Set up a meeting for late December."


	35. Christmas Tidings

Christmas music played merrily in Carol's comfortable kitchen, where Kurt was sitting at the head of the table filling small disposable piping bags with frosting in different colors.  Blaine flicked on the light in the oven to check on one batch of tree-shaped cookies, while Carol walked around the table with a tray.  She transferred cooled cookies, shaped like holiday sweaters, one to each paper plate set round the table.  Andy followed behind her, setting out a small spatula and one of the piping bags filled by his Daddy beside each setting.  "We're ready, Grandma Carol," Andy announced, surveying the table. 

"Almost.  Take the bowls of decorations from the counter and put them on the lazy susan in the middle, okay, hon?  One at a time,"  Carol instructed him.  "Can't have ugly Christmas sweater cookies without sprinkles and sparkles."

"Sprinkles and sparkles," Andy echoed, enchanted.  "I'll get 'em."  He charged over to the counter and grabbed three bowls, trying to hold them against his chest to carry them.  Before Blaine could warn his over-eager son, the bowls had slipped from his grasp, sending multicolored candy bits in every direction.

Andy looked horrified.  "I - I'm sorry!  Grandma, I'm sorry!  It was an accident!"

"It's okay, hon," she said mildly, coming over to the counter and stroking the boy's fuzzy head.  Nothing Andy did or didn't do, elicited any annoyance or reproof from doting Grandma Carol.  The little boy, big for his age and goodhearted and enthusiastic, reminded her too much of Finn at that age.   And Kurt, who was pre-icing the cookies with a layer of fresh white royal icing, didn't say anything at all to Andy about the 'accident', or even seem to acknowledge it.  Blaine saw Kurt slipping half a sugar cookie into his mouth. The fourth since dinner, and they hadn't even started icing yet.  Kurt was stress-eating, and it was starting to show.  His shirt wasn't tucked into his trousers, and his face was puffy and tired-looking.  He looked like one of his now-frequent tension headaches was coming on.  The worry over the upcoming meeting with Dave and the lawyers was getting to him, obviously.  

Blaine figured it was up to him to be the disciplinarian, which seemed to be happening more often since the four-way had been scheduled.  "Andy.  Honey, I know it wasn't on purpose - but next time, take one bowl at a time, like Grandma told you.   Taking too much at once gives you the Lazy Man's Burden, right, buddy?"

"I said sorry," Andy said, looking down.  

"I know you are, pal."  Blaine stepped carefully into the center of the kitchen, and knelt to hug him tightly.  "How about you help clean up this mess? I think Grandma keeps her broom and dustpan in the pantry closet."

Carol squatted down amid the shattered rainbow on her kitchen floor, and patted Andy's back.  "Go on to the closet and get the Dust Buster.  It's on the floor by the right side.  You can clean up for Grandma with that, if you want to."

"I want to," Andy said eagerly.  Blaine mouthed a "thank you"  at Carol, who smiled and gave him a wink.  

Burt came in at the door, painfully thin, but jolly nonetheless, in a Santa hat.  "Whoa, what happened here?  Looks like a candy factory exploded."

"I spilled the sprinkles," Andy said dolefully, standing with the dust buster in his hands while waiting for Carol to plug it in.  When it blared to life with a roar, Kurt jumped in his seat.  

Andy joyfully ran the dust buster over the scattered candy, and Kurt winced as if the noise was bothering him.  Blaine went over to his side and placed a hand on his back, stroking gently.   When the dust buster finally shut off, he whispered, "You're a little pale.  Headache again?"  At Kurt's slight nod, Blaine went to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of spring water, opening it on the way back and placing it in front of Kurt.  "Drink that, you may be dehydrated. Do you want to lie down for a while?"

"No.  I want to be with Andy and Dad," Kurt said stubbornly, but fortunately the color was coming back into his lips as he sipped the water.  

Blaine gave a final pat to Kurt's back, and took a seat next to him at the table.  After everyone had finished decorating the cookies, and cleaning up the disastrous mess that resulted, they filed into the living room to sit under the towering Christmas tree Burt and Andy had insisted upon, despite Carol's concern that it might not fit in their house, and Blaine and Kurt's concern that cutting it down and dragging it to the car, tying it on the roof, and dragging it in the house would be way too much work.  Sure enough, the top of the tree had to be cut off when they returned home, to allow it to be wedged into the living room.  

But the tree  _was_ beautiful with its many colorful twinkling lights.  Kurt put a Bing Crosby Christmas vinyl album on the old record player, while Burt lowered himself down to sit in his battered old recliner and gestured for Carol to take down an old picture book of Kurt's from the bookshelf where a toy Elf was posed drinking from an empty beer can, a fancy of Burt's that had delighted Andy immensely.  Andy clambered up on Burt's lap and settled down, his head on Grandpa's shoulder. 

"Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through the house ..." he began reading, as Andy looked at the pictures contentedly.

Blaine, sitting next to Kurt on a loveseat across from Burt and Andy, put an arm around Kurt, and nudged him slightly.  "So cute," he whispered.  "Grandfather and grandson.  They're crazy about each other."

Kurt nodded, and leaned against his shoulder.  "Yeah.  But next year.  Maybe Dave will get him for Christmas," he whispered dully.

"Even if that happens, I'm just saying - - they love each other so much, nothing can take that away," Blaine tried.

"And who knows about our daughter.  She'll be almost one then and who knows if she'll even recognize us if we see her at Christmas," Kurt said bitterly, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Blaine stiffened, and tightened his arm around Kurt.  "Can't we just enjoy the here and now, honey?  Please?" he pleaded, and Kurt nodded again, his eyes drooping drowsily.  Blaine watched as Kurt drifted off to sleep, a worried pucker still between his eyebrows, and sighed sadly.

 


	36. Five-Way Showdown

"Right in here, Mr. Hummel, Mr. Anderson," the secretary at Mike's office directed them, pointing into a conference room.

Kurt followed Blaine inside and surveyed a long conference table with a pitcher of water and some cups on a tray at one end. As they stood uncertainly in the room, looking around at the artwork on the walls, Mike appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Blaine, good to see you." He shook hands with Blaine, then turned to Kurt with an outstretched right hand. "And this must be Mr. Hummel. Nice to meet you." He gestured toward the opposite side of the table. "We'll be over there. Blaine next to me, because technically he's the respondent in the case - even though I know this affects both of you."

Kurt took a seat at the end of the table next to Blaine, and reached out to pour a drink with shaking hands, then down it quickly.

"A few things to go over before your ex and Mr. Perry get here, Blaine. We're going to offer to do the blood tests now, in exchange for putting off the hearing on paternity. And we're going to try to feel out where they're coming from and where they see this all headed."

"Nope. Not good enough," Kurt piped up, his hands folded and his eyes fixed on the opposite wall.

"Um. Kurt?" Blaine asked timidly. "I thought we agreed, Mike's plan - -"

"What do we get out of that? Nothing."

Blaine exchanged a quick glance with Mike. "I think what we get out of it is, we try to start off on the right foot here. Calm things down and handle this without the Court."

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "That means, we need to get a few assurances from them."

"What kind of - - oh, hi, Jim." Mike jumped up and went around the table to shake the other lawyer's hand. Kurt gave him a once-over. Five foot eight. About 140, he'd guess. Brooks Brothers suit. Striped Brooks Brothers bow tie. Dark hair. Seemed as if Dave had a type. Only this one lacked the softness and sweetness in Blaine's eyes and face. He was a shark. Not somebody Kurt wanted anywhere near his Andy.

"And this must be Mr. Karofsky. I'm Mike O'Connell, Blaine's lawyer. Pleased to meet you. Blaine, Kurt, this is Jim Perry."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, but shook Jim's and Dave's hands in turn. "So. Shall we get down to business?"

"Sure," Jim said, gesturing for Dave, who was standing aimlessly in the doorway, looking awkward and uncomfortable in a big-and-tall, ill-tailored suit, to take the seat directly opposite Blaine. Jim pulled up the chair opposite Mike's, and poured a glass of water for himself and for Dave. "I have to admit," he said, passing the water to Dave, who swallowed it in one gulp, looking away from Blaine and Kurt. "I was surprised you called for this five-way at this point in the litigation. This petition's a slam-dunk, as you know, Mike."

"True. But, you know the courts are backed up for months. What we're offering is to just - do the test as soon as possible - at whatever lab you like, Jim - - and start the discussions about where this is headed if it turns out that Mr. Karofsky is the biological father."

"In plain English for Dave," Kurt cut in icily. "What do you want?"

"Kurt -" Mike started, nudging Blaine. "Let me handle- - "

"My husband wants to get to know his son, which he has every right to do. And I'm sure he is Dave's," Jim snapped back. "There's no way you don't know the truth. You must've had that kid tested - -"

"His name is Andy. Burt Anderson Hummel," Kurt interrupted. "And we haven't."

"Bull. You're making us go through these hoops as a stall tactic. And lemme tell you, I don't think the court will appreciate that any more than I do. You've lied to Dave over and over again - -"

Mike slapped his hand on the table. "Listen. Jim, I know you're emotionally involved in this case.  In fact, I'm not even sure how you're representing your husband in a family court matter.  But I'll look the other way on that as long as this stays civil."  He glared around the table.  "The only thing, and I mean only thing, that we should be talking about here is what's best for Andy."

"Yes.  And what's best for Andy is to get this paternity question out of the way first.  If Andy is Dave's, then Dave needs to start making up for a lot of lost time with his son."

Kurt winced.  Why was it so hot in here?  He poured some more water and took a drink.  Setting down the cup, he cleared his throat.  "What does that mean?"

"It means I want to spend time with Andy," Dave said.  "I know that's not something you're thrilled about.  I know we have our past.  But I'm not the same person I was.  It won't hurt Andy to get to know me.  I think the only reason you're resisting is because you're threatened by me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt snapped back.  "Threatened?  You've got to be kidding me.  And if you're going to get to know Andy, it'll be on Blaine's and my terms, as his custodial parents.  And in my opinion, we'd have to start small, maybe after school once a week, see how Andy does with it."

"Not acceptable," Jim said.  "We start with every other weekend, and one night a week.  Alternate the holidays.  And if that goes well, then joint custody, even split between the two households.  That's in Andy's best interests."

Mike cut in.  "Joint custody only works if all parties are willing to work together.  There's a lot of bad blood here, Jim, and to be fair to Kurt, he was the victim of some pretty serious harassment and abuse from your husband not all that long ago."

"Blaine," Dave blurted out.  "You - you told this guy about that?  That was - that was a hundred years ago!  I'm - I'm a teacher now, for God's sake!  I've changed, and you of all people should know that.  I didn't want to believe you'd keep my own son from me - - but now - -"

"I told the lawyer about that, Karofsky," Kurt said evenly.  "Look.  We can argue about this later.  If you don't like my offer, then how about we wait for the paternity order, and you go ahead and file a petition for visitation.  Maybe you'll get visits in a year.  Or - - we agree to have the test, and if."  Kurt swallowed.  "If it turns out it's you, we start with a few hours after school once a week, for say, six months, then maybe an overnight once a week after that.  Take it or leave it."

"Kurt, wait," Blaine pleaded.  "Let's - - let's not be hasty here - -"

"Andy can't handle being away from us for a whole weekend, it's not realistic, Blaine.  And that's just a start!  They want to have Andy bounce back and forth like - like a dodgeball, torn in half between two families," Kurt ranted.  "This is exactly what I was afraid of."

"That isn't uncommon," Jim said.  "Lots of families make that work."

Blaine whispered to Kurt, "That's what we're asking Santana and Brittany to do, isn't it?  Share custody?"

"That's totally different!  That was our agreement going in!" Kurt yelled at Blaine.  "There was no agreement with you two!  If Andy's his, it's - it's because of one night you were with him because you thought you lost me.  You two weren't married, or committed, or planning a family.  If he'd known, he probably would have freaked out about it.  I'm the one who wanted this baby, who decided with you to have him.  Who's taken care of him every day of his life, every single day.  I'm his father!"

"Because you stole him," Dave said coldly.  "You stole my right to know him, you took my place.  If this is hard on Andy for a while, that's on you."  He stared at Blaine angrily. "Both of you.  And I blame you more than Kurt, Blaine.  How could you do this to me?"

Blaine looked away for a moment, then back.  "I was - I am - in love.  That's why.  It was over between me and you.  It - it seemed right to just -- be a family.  We didn't want to hurt you.   Really," he pleaded, seeing Dave's disbelieving look.  "I'm sorry this is happening, Dave.  But - I can't say I'm sorry about letting Kurt be Andy's father.  He's ... amazing.  The best dad any boy could have."

"I can be a good father too!"

"I know that, but face it, Dave.  You were in college in Ohio.  I was married to someone else, living in Manhattan.  We weren't planning a family in the first place, we were practically kids.  Are you saying you could have been the father Kurt's been all this time to Andy?"  Blaine reached across and grabbed Dave's wrist.  "C'mon, Dave.  I didn't do this to hurt you.  I admit it was partly selfish, but it was so we could be a family - me, Kurt and Andy.  Please try to understand.  I thought you'd finish college, find a great guy, have a family of your own, and never have to get hurt."

"You just hoped I'd disappear.  But problems like this don't disappear, Blaine."  Dave sighed. "So.  We either agree to barely see Andy, or wait another few months to find out the truth and get visitation?"

"I - I can't go against what Kurt wants," Blaine said. "And I think he's right.  If you're Andy's biological father, we need to start slow with visitation.  He's only in kindergarten and he's never been away from Kurt a night in his life."

"Excuse me.  As the lawyer here - -" Mike started, but Jim cut him off. 

"Your clients have made their position perfectly clear, Mike.  I guess we'll see you in court."


	37. Impact

"I think we need to talk, Kurt."  Blaine tugged at Kurt's hand as they wound their way through the crowd toward the park to pick up Andy.    Rachel was babysitting, and had promised Andy a day at the park with his favorite statues.

Kurt scowled.  He was talked out about this.  About people trying to take away their children from every direction.  "Look.  I know maybe I got a little high-handed in there," he muttered.  "But if they think I'm going to lie down and let them walk over me, bully me into giving them carte blanche with Andy, they're crazy."

"If they thought that, you certainly disabused them of that notion," Blaine said.  "But we need to be flexible about Andy if Dave is the father.  And about the new baby - she definitely is going to have two other parents, and we have to be able to work with them."

"Having a baby with Rachel would have been a smarter way to go.  I don't know what we were thinking, trying to share parenting with Brittany and Santana.  You can't tell what they're going to do from one minute to the next.  I don't even think  _they_ know what they're going to do from one minute to the next.  I love them, but."

Blaine shrugged. "Having a baby with Rachel could get complicated too.  She's not always the most predictable person either.  But that ship's sailed, I assume.  We have enough on our plate with Andy and the new baby."

"Yes.  And now we have to go back and pay money to Mike to try to deal with Santana and Brittany.  It wasn't supposed to be like this," Kurt complained.  

"Well, it is.  And like I said.  We may have to adjust our expectations about what a family looks like.  I know it was just you and your dad for most of your life.  But nowadays, blended families are pretty normal.  Andy will be okay."  Blaine pulled at Kurt's hand.   "It's you I'm more worried about.  Your headaches and stomachaches - -"

"That's all psychosomatic.  Stress," Kurt said dismissively.  

"Even so.  There's treatments for short-term stress ... relaxation techniques.  I can think of a way to relax you, if we go back to the apartment instead of picking Andy up early."

"Tempting, but I want to see Andy.  I need to make the most of the time I still have with him as his father."

Blaine stopped short in the street and dropped Kurt's hand.  "See?  That's the type of attitude I'm talking about.  You act like the world's coming to an end over this.  Andy will always be our son, even if he's Dave's too, Kurt!  We aren't losing him completely, that can't happen."

"There's the park.  Oh, and there's Andy and Rachel," Kurt said, pointing. Andy and Rachel were making snow dogs, apparently, and had created a small pack of them.  He waved at Rachel from across the street,  grasping at Blaine's hand again and tugging him along.

Rachel waved back, and started gathering up Andy's backpack from a bench nearby.  Andy spotted his fathers and started out the gate of the park, with Rachel calling after him to wait and slipping on the slick park sidewalk.  

"Stay there, Andy," Kurt called, but Andy was out of the gate and waiting on the curb beside a large snowbank.  There was no crossing guard, with school out for the holidays.  "We'll come get you."  

"Okay, Daddy!"

The light turned and Andy looked up at the white walking man on the sign across the street, and took a step forward, to the very edge of the curb by the lamppost.   Kurt and Blaine started across the street, and Andy hovered at the curb, clearly wanting to run across, but hesitating as directed.  Rachel was hurrying over from the park, but had dropped the backpack, spilling the contents on the sidewalk just outside the gate, and bent to gather them.  At that moment, an SUV careened up the empty street at breakneck speed - - swerved to avoid Kurt and Blaine in the crosswalk - - and jumped the curb.

 


	38. Emergency

The SUV's horn blared, the driver slumped over the steering wheel, and the hood crumpled around the light post where Andy had stood only moments before.   Kurt forced his way through the gathering crowd, shoving and pushing, fighting to get around the car.   Rachel was kneeling beside a small body laying several feet from the SUV, a group of onlookers standing at a short distance staring down at them.

"The car threw him," Kurt heard someone saying as he ran to Andy's side and started to reach for him.

Hands grabbed at his arms, dragging him back amid screams of "Don't touch him!" 

"Let me go - it's my son -" he shouted, as Blaine approached Andy shakily, kneeling down next to him and leaning over.   Kurt gasped, "I won't touch him - - but that's my little boy - let me -"

The men cautiously released him, and Kurt hurried to Andy's other side.  

There was no blood, no smashed limbs or skull, thank God.  But Andy's eyes were squeezed shut in pain; his body arching.  "Try to stay still, Andy - - please, just stay still.  Aunt Rachel is calling an ambulance to take you to the hospital - we need to make sure you're okay - -" Blaine was telling him, leaning over and looking intently into his eyes.  "Try to concentrate, and stay still, please."

"It hurts too much!" Andy screamed.  "My back hurts!  It got hit!"

"Andy - it's me, Daddy.  I know it hurts," Kurt said.  "Squeeze my hand when it hurts," he urged him, taking Andy's right hand.  Blaine took the left.  "Papa and I are right here.  You're going to be okay in just a little bit," he soothed the writhing little boy.  

A siren sounded in the distance, then wailed closer, and Kurt found himself praying for the first time in his life as the crowd parted to let the paramedics through.

 

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

The all-too-familiar hospital where Andy was born, and Blaine was so sick for so long hadn't changed much in five years.  Kurt stared out the window, sick of looking at those familiar walls.  He hated the fact that they were back here again, this time waiting for word on Andy's condition.   Carol, Burt and Pam were all on their way from Ohio.  Rachel was circling the waiting room like a small sentry.  They hadn't called anyone else, yet, there was no reason until more was known and besides.  Kurt looked  over his shoulder at Blaine, gathering strength from his return look.  The two of them were enough support for one another, and no one else, no one, could understand what they were going through more than each other right now.

"Why is it taking so long," Rachel burst out, making Kurt jump.  His nerves were shot.  

"I.  Don't know," he said, leaning his head against the window pane and shutting his eyes.  They'd taken Andy away for tests.  Something about CT scans and a kidney study.  From what they could put together, Andy had seen the car coming at him and tried to turn and run from it- taking the impact from the front bumper in the small of his back.  The light post had absorbed and blocked most of the force of it, from what they could figure.  He'd been in shock by the time they got to the hospital, and was whisked away for lab work, for tests and films, but that had been over an hour ago.  

"Mr. Hummel?"  Kurt turned, and saw the hospitalist in charge of Andy's case was heading their way, looking serious.  He was a small man, a few inches shorter than Blaine, with a kind face and tufts of white hair standing up on either side of his head.  Blaine jumped up from the corner and joined Kurt, putting an arm around him, and Rachel hovered a few feet away.

"Dr. Katz.  How is he?" 

"So far so good as far as head injury or broken bones, by some miracle," Dr. Katz said.  "But he took a pretty bad hit to the low back."

"Spinal injury?" Kurt quavered.

"Doesn't seem to be - - so far, he's neurologically intact, and there's no signs of a problem on the spinal studies.  But there are some indications of blunt internal injuries and swelling to the kidneys on CT scan, and frank blood in the urine and other signs of possible acute renal failure."

Kurt clutched at Blaine's hand.

Dr. Katz continued, "The urologist feels that if we don't see signs of improvement in the next hour or two, he'll need surgery - and worst case scenario, he might need a transplant.  But he'll be here in a bit to explain all that in more detail."

Kurt reached for Blaine's hand.  "I can give him a kidney," Blaine started, but Kurt interrupted him, insistent.

"You can't, Blaine!  You've had so many abdominal surgeries already!  You remember the doctors told us you're likely to have adhesions and scarring inside, and future surgeries could be more complicated," he said, parroting what the doctors had told him years ago after Blaine's surgeries.  He shook his head. "It should be me."

Dr. Katz shook his head.  "It's not that simple.  There are a lot of tests to determine if the donor's kidney will be compatible with the recipient.  The best matches are usually from brothers or sisters.  Parents may be a close enough match, but not necessarily.  One factor is blood type.  We typed Andy's blood.  He has type O - the most common type, but he can only receive a transplant from someone who also has type O blood."

Kurt bit his lip.  "I have B," he said, brokenly.  "I know because I donate blood three times a year.  I can't help Andy."

"Well, I have type O," Blaine said.  "So I can do it if Andy has to have a kidney."

The doctor looked dubious.  "Mr. Hummel has a point -- if you have a complex surgical history, you might not be the ideal choice.  Kidney donation is a serious operation; we often can remove the kidney with a semi-open approach called a keyhole, but it still means a recovery period of several weeks for the donor.  If you have a complex abdomen, then the surgery will be more complicated to remove it, with greater risks.  I'd have to defer to the surgeon, but it's not likely you'd be approved for the surgery."

"That's a last resort," Kurt said, shaking his head. "Blaine, no matter what the doctor says -- you've had enough abdominal surgeries as it is.  And you certainly can't appear in a Broadway musical if you're recovering from major surgery."

"I don't care about that," Blaine said indignantly.  "If Andy needs it, and I'm a match, then what choice is there?"

"That's what I'm asking.  What's involved in getting a donor kidney?  And maybe your mom could do it - - she's on her way here."

"You're both getting ahead of yourselves here.  Andy may not need a kidney transplant, depending on the findings during surgery.  And it's not a foregone conclusion that you're even a match, just because your blood type is the same, Mr. Anderson.  So let's get the testing done and then regroup."

Kurt persisted.  "But how long is the wait for a kidney?"

"It depends on the results of Andy's HLA testing and the cross-match with any donor's blood. If Andy has to go on a donor list, it may take a while. If his kidneys fail in the meantime, that means dialysis until a donor is found. But he may not need one. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"So ... if there's another close relative ... we should contact him, just in case, right?" Kurt asked haltingly. "Have him tested too?"

Blaine put an arm around Kurt's shoulders.  

"If you know someone who would do it, then yeah, get him down here."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Jim came into the room, followed by a worried-looking Dave.  It must have started snowing, because Jim was brushing snow from his overcoat.  

"What happened?  Where's the little guy?" Dave asked, pulling off his gloves and shoving them in his jacket's pocket.  Jim tugged at Dave's sleeve, and helped him off with his jacket, taking it to the coat rack in the corner of the waiting room.

 "He's in the ICU," Blaine said.  "His kidneys got injured in the crash."

"Oh my God," Dave breathed.  "What happens now?"

"Well, they've decided to do surgery to try to stop the bleeding and explore how damaged the kidneys are.  He'll need blood transfusions - -"

"I'll be glad to donate blood for Andy," Dave said.

"There's ... one other thing," Kurt said.  "We don't even know if it'll be necessary.  But if Andy needs a transplant, it would be ideal if one of us were ready to donate a kidney.  There's a lot of tests to see if the kidney is a close enough match, and Blaine is having those done now.  They've looked for a donor kidney but there's none available right now.  In case - - in case Blaine isn't a match - - if you are - - we want to ask you to consider it."

Dave's eyes bulged.  He looked back and forth between Kurt and Blaine.  "Consider  - - giving Andy one of my kidneys?"

Jim was taking down a hanger to put his own coat on the rack, but turned at Dave's words and flung his coat on the nearby couch.  "There it is!" he shouted, startling Rachel curled up on a chair by the window.  "I knew there was a catch.  So Dave's good enough to donate a kidney, but not good enough to get overnight visits?" 

"Jim, hold up - - I might be able to do something for Andy, something important - - if he's my son, maybe I should consider it."

"Dave.  Honey.  I know you want to help, but -- this is major surgery, with a lot of risks.  What if something happens to your secondkidney later, if you've given one away?" Jim pointed out.  "I mean, what about a donor kidney?  Andy's a little kid, wouldn't he go to the top of the list?"

"But if he needs a transplant, and has to wait, he'd need dialysis," Kurt explained.  "He may not need end up needing a kidney transplant, I hope that he doesn't! But - I'm just asking Dave to be tested.  I - don't have the right blood type, so I can't do it or I would in a heartbeat - - Blaine may be too high risk for surgery - -"

"If I'm a match, it's happening," Blaine said bluntly.  "But we're asking for a backup.  Dave, I know I have no right to ask a favor.  But this isn't for me.  It's for Andy.  Please get tested?"

Dave hesitated, and looked at Kurt's and Blaine's pale, drawn faces.  "I - let's have the tests," he said finally.  "We can decide later, if Andy needs it and if I'm a match."

"I'm not in favor of this, Dave," Jim said.  "You barely know Andy, and you're not even sure he's your son.  I don't want you to give up your kidney."

"I'm just getting tested, babe," Dave protested.  "We can make the decision when or if the time comes."

"A real father would offer his kidney, or his life, for his son," Kurt snapped, feeling the room spinning.  "It wouldn't be a matter of deciding later.  You should be begging to do it."  His vision blurred.   He shut his eyes and breathed in for a minute.  "You - you don't get it?  I have a different blood type," he choked.  "You win.  I can't be the father.  This is on you now.  Do what you need to for your son."

"You're being ridiculous," Jim snapped.  "Just because your blood type is incompatible for a transplant, doesn't prove anything!  Didn't you even take biology in high school?  And more to the point, who knows who else might have fucked this slut and be a candidate for fatherhood?  We still don't know if Andy's Dave's son until there's genetic testing proving it!"

"You were sure enough of it this morning!" Blaine flared.  "Just get tested already!  We can't stand here arguing right now! There's no time for this anymore!"

Jim squared off opposite Blaine, wing-tipped toe to wing-tipped toe, bow-tie to bow-tie, and Kurt blinked dizzily.   It looked like one of those bad mid-century split screen movies, where Hayley Mills or Bette Davis played twins, he thought crazily.

Poking Blaine in the chest, Jim insisted, "Let's get this straight, Anderson.  You don't get to order Dave around!  It's his decision -- and he has a right to say no, even if he is the father.  It's his body.  I say wait for a donor - -"

The room tilted bizarrely and Kurt swayed on his feet.

"Kurt - are you feeling okay?" Rachel asked, anxiously, putting a hand on his arm.  

"I - I'm not," Kurt admitted, and the room swirled a final time as his knees buckled.   He was vaguely aware of Blaine's arms reaching around him before everything went dark.

 

 

 


	39. Confusion

Kurt opened his eyes again to dim light, and the faint sound of the television.  Blinking, he looked around at his surroundings as he slowly shook off the grip of sleep.

He was alone in a hospital room, in bed.  Wearing a hospital gown.  He raised one arm and looked at the two wristbands on his arm, one bright yellow and the other with his name, blood type, sex, date of birth, and "DATE OF ADM" on it, along with a bar code and a series of different numbers.  And the name of a doctor he'd never heard of, "Dr. Barnes".  The crook of his arm ached ... he stiffly pulled back the sleeve of the hospital gown to take a look.  He had an IV inserted there.  He shifted his gaze, along the IV tubing to a bag hanging from a pole beside the bed.  Squinting at it, he read its contents, "Lactated Ringers."  

He knew what that was.  Blaine had it a lot when he was in the hospital.  It was for rehydration.   He rubbed his head sleepily.  The TV was on an entertainment news program, and he watched it dully for a moment.  It ... it was about Dancing With the Stars ... the lineup for the new season starting in late February.  

"And newcomer Brittany Lopez-Pierce will be joining the cast, as a new pro dancer, paired with celebrity contestant Dustin Diamond, known best for his role as Samuel "Screech" Powers on  _Saved by the Bell_."  

 _Good God.  Poor Britt,_ he thought even through the haze in his head.

_Why am I in the hospital, though?  Am I sick?_

A chill came over him.   _Is it_ _cancer - like Mom had at my age - like Dad -_

He sat up suddenly, as it the memories of the terrible accident, then waiting to find out about Andy's condition ...  finally dawned on him in a sudden rush.   _Karofsky and that asshole lawyer husband of his came to the hospital, there was a fight.  But where's Andy ... and Blaine?  What's going on with Andy?_

He put his legs over the side of the bed and scooted over to stand.  As his socked feet touched the floor and he stood, an alarm on the machine beside his bed went off with a piercing series of beeps, startling him.  

As he shakily started toward the door amid the din, a very tall female nurse appeared in the doorway, blocking the exit.  

"So you're up!  I'm Janet, Mr. Hummel.  I'll be the nurse taking care of you today.  I'll need you to lie back down, okay?  You're stretching your IV tubes.  And you passed out earlier, so you're a fall risk, and the doctor has you on bed rest." 

"Bed rest - what the - - ".  Kurt shook his head, staving off another wave of dizziness.  "Where's my son?  My son's name is Andy Hummel, he was in an accident, where is he?"

"Sit down, please," Janet directed him firmly.  "If you pass out again, you'll be no help to your son, and just another worry to your husband," she said, mincing no words, apparently.  

He started to try to argue, but somehow she had him by the arm and had steered him to sit on the edge of his bed again before he could get a word out.  

"Let me check your blood pressure."  She wrapped a cuff around his arm.

"But - - I need to know about Andy."

"I wish I could tell you something, sir, but he's not on this unit.  Once you calm down, I'll call your husband and he can come down and let you know what's going on with your son."  She nodded at the reading.  "Just as I thought.  You're high again.  You've been having headaches and dizzy spells, according to your husband.  Hypertension can cause those symptoms.  You shouldn't ignore them," she said sternly, ripping off the cuff.  "Get on your left side."

"If I have high blood pressure, it's just because I'm upset about my son almost getting killed today!" Kurt protested.  "I need to find out what's going on!"

"Left side and drink this water.   _Then_ , I call Mr. Anderson."

Kurt flopped indignantly on his left side.  He'd never heard such nonsense.  He was fine.  He just was run down and exhuasted and stressed, sure.  But why had Blaine let them admit him for that?  He sucked down the water and then tipped the cup for her to inspect.  "Done."

"Okay.  I'll go to the nurse's station and call up to Peds.  That's where he is."

"Thank you," Kurt said, feeling a little better after the water and on his left side.  So Janet knew what she was talking about, he admitted to himself.  As she left, he peered out onto the floor and frowned as a pregnant woman walked by, holding her back.   A few minutes later, a pregnant man was rolled by in a wheelchair.  He glanced around the room, apprehensively.  This.  This room looked like the one Blaine was in when he ...

Blaine appeared at the doorway, looking like he'd run down the stairs.  "Kurt!  You're awake!  Honey, thank God.  You've been asleep for an hour and a half.  I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up, honey - - -- -"

"Never mind that! What's going on with Andy!" Kurt demanded.  

 

 

 

 

 


	40. Getting to the Bottom of This

"Well, things are about the same as they were when you fainted," Blaine said.  "We're supposed to be having a conference about it in a few minutes."

"Who's 'we'?"

Blaine plucked at the hospital blanket.  "Your Dad is here now, and Carol and my mom.  And.  You know.  Dave and Jim."

The machine in the corner started beeping faster.  

"Kurt - your blood pressure - -"

"So that's how it is now?  Dave's in on the conference and everybody just lets me sleep through it?  He may be Andy's biological father but don't I have any rights at all anymore?" Kurt spluttered.  "I'm just nobody in all this??"

"Kurt, the doctor told me that Jim's right, you're not ruled out as Andy's father based on blood type!  We don't know any more than we did before about that.  You have to calm down and let me talk to you - -"

Janet came in, with a very pretty young female doctor in a white lab coat and high heels meekly following behind her.  "At least you're not out of bed again," Janet scolded.  "But what's going on that has you so bent out of shape!  Look at that monitor!" she asked, pointing.  

"Hello, Mr. Hummel.  I'm Dr. Barnes, your doctor, and - -"

"Never mind me right now," Kurt fumed.  "When's this meeting again?"  He threw off the blanket and carefully put his legs over the side of the bed.

Blaine looked at his watch.  "Five minutes, but Kurt, you have to listen to Dr. Barnes.  There's something we need to tell you, it's important - -"

"I said not now!  I want to go up and talk to Dr. Katz about Andy!  And that's final."  He stood up, holding on to Blaine's arm. "I'll hang on to Blaine here, he won't let me fall.  Okay, Janet?" he said.  

Janet looked sidelong at Dr. Barnes.  "What do you think, Doctor?   Seems as if Mr. Hummel won't calm down until he's had news about his son.  Can I get him a wheelchair?" Janet prompted, already heading out to the hallway.

"Um.  Okay," Dr. Barnes said hesitantly.  "I wanted to talk to you about our plan of care, and - - "

Janet returned pushing a wheelchair.  She parked it and moved the foot rests.  "Here you go.  If Doctor approves it," she said, as if an afterthought.  

"Well.  Fine, I'll be finishing rounds here anyway.  I'll talk to you later," Dr. Barnes called after Kurt, who was already wheeling himself out of the room, a flustered Blaine trailing behind.


	41. Good News

Kurt sat in his wheelchair by the elevator, waiting for Blaine, who had run back to the hospital room to get something for him to put on so that he wasn't flapping in the breeze in front of Dave and Jim.  He stared at the floor, trying to steel himself for bad news.  Patients came on and off the elevator, but he didn't raise his eyes to look at them.  He had to be ready.  Strange to think that earlier today, the worst thing he could imagine was Andy being Dave's son.  Now he wished that were his only problem.  Blaine's distinctive footsteps hurried toward him, and he looked up finally.

"Here's your robe," Blaine said, draping it over Kurt's shoulders and helping him put his arms in the sleeves.  "Listen, there's something I want to say before we get in there."  
  
Kurt sighed.  "I really can't handle another thing right now, Blaine.  If it can wait, can we just ... talk about it later?"  He leaned his head on his hands, and Blaine subsided, pushing the wheelchair onto the elevator and pushing the button for the sixth floor.  

When they reached the floor, they headed back to the waiting room where the big confrontation had occurred.  Seated at one end of the room, his dad and Carol, with Pam next to them.  On the other side, Jim and Dave.  

"Kurt!" his parents and mother-in-law chorused, looking strangely excited.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine quickly shake his head, and the three of them quieted.  "Good to see you, honey," Pam said warmly.  "I hope you're feeling better."

"I'm okay," Kurt muttered, wondering why his dad was looking at him like he had grown a second head.  "Just all the drama, it's a bit much even for me."  He wheeled over next to his father's chair and sat slumped in it.  After a minute, Dave and Jim got up from their seats and moved closer.

"Hey, Pam," Dave said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.  "You're looking beautiful as always."

"Hi, Dave," she said, glancing anxiously at Kurt.  "Um.  Why are you here?"

Blaine looked as if he'd like to drill a hole in the floor and hide in it.  "Burt.  Well. I know you know about.  The issue with Andy's paternity," he stammered. 

Burt looked blank a moment.  "Oh.  Yeah.  Actually I forgot about that ... I mean, Andy's our little guy, no matter what ... you mean - that hasn't been settled yet?"

"No ... Mom, I'm ... I'm sorry.  I never said anything to you about it ... I just ... Kurt and I decided to raise Andy together regardless, and well.  I --"

Shaking her head, Pam shushed him.  "I can count, honey.  I had my doubts, but ... I figured it was between you and Kurt."

"And Dave," Jim volunteered from his new seat.  "Dave, who might still be Andy's father, in case anybody is keeping score."

"Pam, I want you to know - I just want what's best for Andy.  In fact, I got tested to see if I can donate a kidney if Andy needs one."

"Hopefully that won't happen," Jim commented.  

"We all hope that," Pam said.  "Is that Andy's doctor?"

Kurt looked up and saw Dr.Katz heading toward them, looking a little confused.  

"Hello, Mr. Hummel, Mr. Anderson.  Um.  Was there an accident?" he asked, looking at Kurt.

"Just a little stress," Kurt said.  "Dr. Katz, my parents Burt and Carol.  My mother-in-law, Pam. And," he sighed, flinging a hand in Dave's general direction.  "This is Dave Karofsky.  He's ... he might be Andy's other father."

Dr. Katz looked more baffled than ever.  "But that's impossible."

"Surely you're aware that two men can have a child together, and it's not as uncommon as it used to be in the Stone Age," Jim cut in from behind them.  At Dr.Katz' surprised look over at him, he added.  "I'm Jim Perry.  Stepfather."

The doctor blinked and then flipped open the folder in his hands.  "I was told Mr. Karofsky was a relative, and wanted to be tested for compatibility for a transplant," he said slowly.  He checked a page in the folder, flipped the folder back closed.  "Well, anyway. The good news is, Andy's labs are much better now. He won't need surgery today, much less a transplant.  "So.  Everybody relax and we'll just keep a close eye on him tonight - -"

Kurt felt the tension flow from his body, and slumped exhausted in his chair, gripping Blaine's hands tightly.  Blaine turned and gave him a kiss on the top of the head, and Burt reached over and squeezed Kurt's arm as Pam and Carol hugged tightly.

Dave looked perplexed. "So.  That's great news, but ... what if he gets worse again?  Should I stick around in case he needs a kidney? Am I a match?"

Dr.Katz turned red.  "No.  No, you're not."

Jim's eyes had been shifting back and forth between the doctor and Dave.  "Just out of curiosity, Doctor.  What's Dave's blood type?"

The doctor cleared his throat.  "AB".


	42. Good Things Come

The room was silent for a moment, before Dr. Katz mumbled something about seeing them during rounds tomorrow, and made his escape.  The others stood, mouths agape, staring at each other.

"So ... what does that mean?" Kurt asked, finally.

Jim put a hand on Dave's shoulder.  "It means Dave can't be Andy's father.  Andy has Type O blood - AB is the one blood type that rules Dave out."  He slipped his hand around Dave's back.  "I'm ... I'm sorry?" he whispered, a kindness in his eyes that Kurt hadn't seen before.  Dave pressed his lips together and nodded, chin up.  

If Kurt was surprised, it was only at how numb he felt at hearing this news.  He couldn't rejoice or celebrate ... maybe it was Andy's still fragile condition ... maybe it was Dave's disappointed face.  Maybe he finally realized that, in the big picture, worse things could have happened today, far worse, than learning Andy shared another man's blood than his own.  He winced when he saw Dave blinking back tears.

"Don't, baby," Jim said.  "We'll have a kid ... lots of them, someday.  I promise ..."

Blaine looked at Kurt, who nodded and inclined his head toward Dave.  "Go ahead," he mouthed at him, and Blaine stepped forward, while Jim drew Dave's arm tighter to himself protectively.  

"Dave ... I'm sorry we put you through this, and tried to keep Andy from you.  You deserved better than that, especially from me," Blaine said.

"He did deserve better," Jim agreed, pressing his temple against Dave's shoulder.  "You guys should've done the right thing years ago."

Kurt reached out and took Blaine's hand, backing him up.   "We're both sorry.  If it's any consolation ... it's not like this has been a picnic for us either."

"That was your choice ... the only innocent party in all this is Dave," Jim answered shortly. 

"The only innocent party is Andy," Kurt disagreed.  He thought about little Andy struggling alone with what he'd overheard ... and how he'd even let Andy keep being confused and not sure who he was and who he belonged to.  Made Blaine go against his conscience, and kept this hanging over their heads for five years.  For what?  He'd thought he was protecting his family, but it had all been for nothing, and only created a problem that never had to happen.  Dad had been right, as always.  He dropped his head on his hand, leaning on the wheelchair arm rest.  "As soon as I can see him, I want to tell him the whole truth.  Finally."

"Well, congratulations.  You're a father," Dave said, a catch in his voice.  "We will be too, someday," he added, looking at Jim, who smiled back.  "Good luck, guys.  You've got a great little boy there."

Blaine nodded, and Dave reached out to shake his hand. "Goodbye, Blaine.  Keep in touch."

"Or not," Jim tossed over his shoulder as he ushered Dave out of the waiting room and down the hall.  Once they were out of earshot, Blaine turned and beamed at Kurt and Burt.  "So!  You're a grandfather!" he exclaimed.   He stopped and looked at Burt, curiously. "You don't seem that excited about the news!"

"Eh.  I already loved Andy as much as I could love anybody," Burt said.  "This news doesn't change anything.  But I'm glad for Kurt's sake. I know how important this was to you, kiddo.  And yeah. I guess congratulations are in order." 

"And not just about Andy," Blaine said slyly.  

"What are you talking about," Kurt said.  He looked around at Pam, Carol and Burt, who were grinning too.

"Didn't you recognize the Maternity and Paternity Unit from when I was here?"  Blaine teased.  "You really had no idea where you were when you woke up?"

"I.  What."

"Not every day a guy finds out he's a father -- _twice,_ kiddo.  Congratulations on baby number two," Burt said.  Pam squealed in delight and smothered him with kisses, then turning to Blaine, who hugged her back, before kneeling in front of Kurt and peered into his eyes.  Kurt was speechless, staring at Blaine open-mouthed.

"Kurt?  You're happy, right?  This time, we can have a baby without a cloud of doubt over us ... a baby brother or sister for Andy, just like we always wanted ... are you scared?  Is that it?  Because - -"

Kurt focused on Blaine, finally, and shook his head, crying tears of happiness.  "No.  I'm not scared," he whispered hoarsely, before kissing Blaine fiercely.  "I just - - I don't deserve to be happy - - not after what I put us through - -"

"Don't even," Blaine growled, kissing back to silence him, then pulling Kurt close.  "That's the past - - let's focus on the present - the future - from now on."


	43. Epilogue - Part One - Gestating with the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay the epilogue will be in several parts because that's how I roll LOL - we will have this part, probably two more small pieces - and hopefully they will be written and go up this weekend. Thanks to anyone still following!

"Right down here, sirs," the ABC intern directed.  "Ms. Pierce wants you in the front row next to her wife."   Kurt spotted Santana, resplendent and hugely pregnant in a backless black satin gown, seated by the dance floor.  Two empty seats were reserved next to her.  Blaine waved excitedly.  Santana smiled and beckoned to them, and they followed the intern down the aisle.

"Wow," Kurt whispered to Blaine. "She looks amazing.  I don't know how she got into that dress, let alone those heels."   He squinted.   Looked like the 5-inch Louboutin Crystal Queens that had gone missing from the Vogue.com vault around the time Santana had dropped by the office in January to take him to lunch and hash out their differences.  "It's two days past her due date, I have swollen ankles already and I'm only 5 months.  She looks like a goddess.   I don't know how she does it."

"Sheer force of will," Blaine murmured back.  "She's so proud of Brittany for getting this part. There was no way she was going to look anything less than perfect at Brittany's debut."

"And probably finale.  That 'celebrity' she got stuck with is a joke."  This season, DWTS had instituted instant voting; the audience was voting live and a contestant would be sent home in the very first episode.  As Blaine helped him down the last step, he commented, "It's so unfair.  She's the newest cast member, she has no fan base yet, and to give her the worst celebrity, she has no chance."

"Everybody's got to pay their dues, I guess," Blaine said.  "Hopefully she'll have better luck next season.  And you never know.  Dustin's pretty bad but they also have Rob Kardashian on this season."  He leaned down and kissed Santana on the cheek.  "Hey, beautiful."  

"Hey Blaine. You're looking pretty great yourself."   As Kurt bent to give her a kiss hello, she looked him up and down more critically.  "Meanwhile, Kurt, you look like you're retaining water - I hope you're not still eating those hideous Trader Joe Bacon Jerky things I found stashed in your desk at Vogue a couple months ago.  I told you this would happen if you didn't cut down on salt."

Kurt mumbled, "They're all natural.  And it's not my fault the baby randomly wants cured meats.  And I don't eat that many of them."

"Suit yourself, Salty."  She crossed a still-slender ankle over the other, demurely.  "Those ankles tell another story."  

"Santana.  Kurt looks beautiful too, and the doctor says he's in perfect health.  But thanks for the tips, right Kurt?"

His cheeks burning, Kurt nodded.  He had a Bacon Jerky in his jacket pocket right now, and made a mental note to dispose of it as soon as he had an opportunity.

"They're starting!" Santana squealed, shaking Kurt's shoulder excitedly.  Kurt turned to see Blaine looking at him with a soft expression on his face.

"You do look beautiful, Kurt," he said earnestly, running a hand over Kurt's belly.  "I love you so much," he whispered in Kurt's ear.  "And I'm so happy you and Santana worked everything out.  I'm so proud of you."

Kurt looked over at Santana.  "Yep. One big happy family," he said.  It was a little surreal, sitting here next to a woman carrying his husband's baby, while he was pregnant with yet another.  He knew things would be a little different, sharing their middle child with another couple, but.  They would make it work.  Santana was beaming with love and happiness as she watched Brittany in the group dance.  As Kurt watched her, he frowned as Santana's face clenched.  She looked away at the floor for several seconds.  

"Santana," he hissed.  "Are - are you having contractions!?!"

 


	44. Epilogue Part Two - Show Time

"And we'll be right back, with our newest pro cast member Brittany, and her partner, Dustin "Screech" Diamond, dancing the Rumba to "Waterfalls" by TLC, right after this!"  Tom Bergeron boomed.  

"Santana - - are you in labor?" Blaine asked, putting his arm around her.

"Don't touch me," she gasped.  "Don't, Blaine."

He withdrew his arm, and Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.  Santana using Blaine's real name instead of an offensive nickname - - not a promising sign, and her teeth were clenched in what looked like serious pain.  "Santana - do you want us to call your obstetrician?  Or take you to the hospital?" Blaine asked anxiously.  

Santana slowly relaxed, took a deep breath, and shook her head.  "Men.  Freaking out at the first sign of a contraction.  Lucky for you, you don't get them or none of you would probably have children at all."

"How often are you having contractions, Santana?" Kurt insisted.  "If you're in labor, we need to get you to the hospital."

"It's early labor, Sparkles."  She rubbed her back.  "I've been having them about ten minutes apart for a couple of hours now.  It's ... bad, but."

"Didn't Brittany notice?" Kurt asked without thinking.  Blaine nudged him gently, and he turned red.  "I - I mean - -"

"I told her I had gas pains," Santana said.  "She bought it.  Look.  I'm not doing anything that would risk this baby's health.  Not after. What happened before."  She paused, and took a shaky breath.  "I went to the doctor this afternoon, when they started.  The baby's fine, and these contractions might go on for days.  The c-section is still scheduled for tomorrow.  I'll have this baby as planned - on Valentine's Day, with her crowd of grandparents and you two in the waiting room."

"Speak of the devil," Kurt said.  "Here comes Whitney and Pierce.  Just in time, where have they been?  Brittany's dance is next."  

Brittany's blowsy, ditzy mom came clomping across the dance floor dragging Brittany's confused-looking dad behind her, heading toward two empty seats across the aisle from them.  

Kurt turned back to Santana, concerned to see she looked vaguely anxious, and a little sweaty ... and was clutching the seat with her hands tightly.  He checked his watch.  Six minutes.

"Kevin and Brad!" Whitney shouted across the aisle, waving her arms excitedly and pointing toward the dance floor.  Brittany was taking her position beside Dustin.  She looked more beautiful than ever, her long hair swept to one side, wearing sparkly red lace and satin showing an impossible length of perfect legs.   Next to her, Dustin looked like someone from IT support had come to fix someone's computer, but Brittany was so breathtaking that no one would look at him for more than a second.  

"So beautiful," Santana whispered.  "Like - - like an angel."  Her face was tightening again.  "My own angel come down from heaven."  

"It's almost time!" Whitney shrieked from across the aisle.  Looking at Santana's grimacing face, Kurt realized.  Whitney didn't know how right she was.


	45. Epilogue Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This depiction of Dustin and Elizabeth and the judges and hosts of DWTS is based on total fantasy! No offense is meant to any of their fans!

Dustin was clearly new to ballroom dancing.  And possibly to dancing itself.  Brittany hauled him around the dance floor bodily, forcing him into the correct hold and keeping him there, leading him while pretending to be led.   Like a magician's act, her swirling skirts and elaborate flourishes created the illusion of a sexy, passionate, and well-danced rumba, and at the end, Brittany flung herself backward in Dustin's arms in a dramatic finish.  The crowd erupted in cheers, and Dustin helped Brittany swing up to a stand.  

The latest contraction had passed mid-dance, and Brittany looked over at Santana with a smile as she waited for the judges' remarks.  Santana smiled and waved.  Kurt watched her carefully for signs of another contraction, while the judges gave their assessments.   Kurt's eyes flickered over the judges, including guest judge and former DWTS contestant, Elizabeth Berkley.  Kurt had watched enough 80s TV shows to be worried that a former Saved by the Bell contestant was one of the judges.

"I liked it.  Lots of content, lots of time in hold.  A classic Rumba.  Seems like Brittany was carryin' the dance a bit, but all told, better than I expected," Len remarked.  

Dustin scowled.  "I think I pulled my own weight," he protested.  "And did you hear that applause?"

The audience emitted a hesitant smattering of applause.   Tom cleared his throat.  "How about you, Carrie Ann?"

"Like Len, I thought it was a great Rumba routine, well choreographed.  All the difficulty was covered by Brittany; Dustin, you essentially just had to stay in hold and let her dance around you for most of it.  That's acceptable for the first dance, but going forward, you'll need to step up your game.

"So, what you're saying is there's a problem with her choreography," Dustin mansplained at Carrie Ann, while Brittany looked hurt beside him, and Santana let out an audible growl beside Kurt.  "But that shouldn't be on me - - "

Tom interrupted Dustin.  "Got to keep this moving.  Bruno?"

"Well, darling - - first of all, welcome to our new pro cast member.  Wonderful job.  Dustin, from watching the package, I think, darling, that you'll have to step up your game.  Brittany can only do so much, and you have to be judged on your own merits, not hers."

Dustin started to answer, but Brittany pulled on his arm to quiet him.

It was Elizabeth's turn, and she leaned back in her chair and smiled her 1000-watt smile.  "Dustin, Dustin, Dustin," she remarked.  "Long time, no see.  Since before the tell-all book, if I recall." 

"I - I don't think it's fair for Elizabeth to be my judge," Dustin stuttered.  "We've had - professional disputes."

"I'd be more than glad to abstain from voting on this dance," Elizabeth said sweetly.  "But I would like to compliment - and sympathize with - your lovely coach."

Tom grinned, and remarked, "Well.  That was ... unusually awkward.  I'm informed that Elizabeth will be allowed to abstain from this vote due to a potential conflict of interest.  Her score will be replaced by an average of the other three judges' scores.  So head on upstairs and we'll get those scores."'

"Just a little longer," Santana said, her voice shaking.  Kurt stroked her hair soothingly, and she leaned her head on his shoulder for support.  

When Brittany and Dustin reached the upper level of the studio, Santana put her head down on her knees.  The camera started to turn toward her, but Blaine abruptly rose and stood in front of her, blocking the camera.  He reached back with his hand and Santana grasped at it, letting out a whimper.  

The announcer Alan Dedicoat's voice thundered over the dance floor.  "Carrie Ann Inabo."

"5," Carrie Ann said, brandishing her paddle.

"Len Goodman."

Len grinned, shrugged, and announced, "Sorry Brittany.  Loved you, but - -6."

 

"Bruno Tonioli."

"7, darlings."

 "Elizabeth Berkley."

Elizabeth shrugged.  "Abstain."

Alan boomed, "24 points for Dustin and Brittany.  That puts them at the very bottom of the leader board."

The music blared and the crowd started clapping for the next couple, and Santana let out an anguished wail.  

"The contractions are way too close together, aren't they?" Blaine asked, frantically.  Kurt nodded, and knelt in front of Santana.  

"Honey?  I know it's important to you that Brittany have her night.  But I think it's time to go to the hospital now.  I'm going to go get the car and bring it around to the front entrance - - Blaine, you help her to the car."  

Santana was too far gone even to argue, and Kurt hurried toward the aisle.  Santana's knees buckled as she stood up, and Blaine swept her up in his arms and carried her, Louboutins dangling limply.  

He gestured to Whitney, who waved back merrily.  "Hi, Keith!" she called over. "I thought she did great, didn't you?"

"Get Brittany, Whitney!" Kurt yelled.  "Now!  The baby's coming!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little snippets will be posted as I find time to write them. We are fairly close to the end. There may be an epilogue 2 or some short stories based on these characters at a future point, if there's any interest.


	46. Epilogue Part Four - Waiting

Kurt ran to the parking lot and beeped open the car door, jumping into the drivers' seat and turning the ignition.  He backed up, narrowly missing a bright yellow post, and sped around to the front of the building.  As he pulled up, he saw Blaine hurrying as fast as he could while carrying Santana, with Brittany and the Pierces close behind.   He nervously surveyed the rental car.  Fortunately, he'd left Andy's booster seat with his parents, but ... 

Pierce reached the car first and jerked open the passenger side door.  Blaine gently set Santana down, and Brittany helped her into the back seat, climbing in next to her and holding her close while the Pierces and Blaine stood staring at each other.  Finally, Blaine said, meekly, "Mrs. Pierce, why don't you get in with Brittany ... Mr. Pierce, you get in front here next to Kurt.  I'll - get a cab."

"Blaine!  You're the father!  And this is our car!" Kurt hissed.  

Blaine shrugged helplessly.  "I'll meet you there," he said, shutting the door after Pierce.  "And I'll call our parents," he shouted as Kurt sped away.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Soon, they had arrived at the hospital and Santana was whisked off to labor and delivery,  Brittany and her mother close behind.  Kurt lingered in the L & D waiting room for the others to arrive; first Blaine, looking haggard.  Then Pam and Cooper, both sweeping in as if to their own red carpet premiere.  Mrs. Lopez, trying to be brave for her daughter, and rushing past them with a shaky smile to be by her daughter's side.  Finally... Burt, Carol and Andy.  They had all debated whether or not to have Andy in the waiting room ... but the little boy had insisted.  "I want to be there and see her right away!" he had protested.  Kurt prayed that all would turn out well, and Andy would get his wish.

"Hey, Dad," Kurt said.  "Thanks for coming out - and waiting with us.  I know how tired you get."

Burt did look tired, but happy.  A new treatment had been working better for him, and it was expected, with weekly chemo for the rest of his life, that he could live five, ten or more years.  Kurt had stopped thinking too much about that.  He just was happy to have his dad with him on this special day, and every day that he could share with him.  Burt smiled, hugging Kurt tightly and opening his arms to let Blaine in on the hug as well.

The group waited, and waited.  The nurse explained that since Santana was in active labor, and the baby's vital signs were excellent, they would be trying a vaginal delivery, not a cesarean section.  Santana would be given another two hours to try to make it happen.

The next hour dragged by, with Andy falling asleep on Pam's lap, sitting next to a confused and worried Pierce, and Kurt and Blaine pacing back and forth.  Brittany came out, finally, to the waiting room, still in her groin-high dancing dress.  Cooper's eyes bugged visibly from their sockets, and even Burt sat up and noticed. 

"So," Cooper said.  "I was watching Dancing With the Stars tonight ... tough break getting stuck with Dustin.  I worked with him on a Popeyes Chicken commercial once.  Totally unprofessional.  He didn't even point once, not even at the chicken."

"Okay," Brittany said softly. "Listen, Blaine - Kurt - Santana and I want to ask you to come into the delivery room.  She's fully dilated and about to push."

 

 

 


	47. Epilogue - Part Five - Hello Baby

Kurt and Blaine stood, out of the way, by the window and watched as Santana labored, intense and determined, push after push.  Kurt made the mistake of looking at Santana's nether regions, distended and swollen, with the baby's head crowning through, and felt his own knees start to tremble.  Blaine quickly guided him to a chair, and stood by his side, stroking his back tenderly and handing him a paper cup of water.  

"One more big push, Santana," the doctor said.  

Kurt tugged at Blaine's sleeve. "Go look.  I - I can't," Kurt whispered.  "Go see our daughter be born."

Blaine laid a hand alongside Kurt's face, then nodded and smiled, going to stand behind Mrs. Lopez.  The room was silent except for Santana's panting breaths, as the baby came. Kurt could see her in the doctor's hands, as he handed her off to a nurse.  She was so quiet, so still.  Why was she so still.   The nurses and doctors were rubbing her little body with warmed cloths.

His heart was aching.  Not again, please, please - - Blaine came to his chair and Kurt reached for him, holding on tight.  

Kurt buried his face in Blaine's shirt - just as an unearthly shriek came from the direction of the baby.   Kurt looked up and saw the tiny girl, red-faced and screaming in rage, until she was laid in her mother's arms, and subsided with a hiccup.  Blaine helped him up, and they approached the bed, finding a spot on Santana's right side.

"She's beautiful," Blaine breathed.  Kurt looked at the little face and felt his heart melting, just as it had when he first saw Andy.  

"What's her name?" he asked.  They'd all agreed that Brittany and Santana would name this, their first child.  

"Meet McKinley Lopez Pierce," Santana said, her face softer than Kurt had ever seen it. 

Kurt's jaw dropped.  "McKinley Pierce? Two presidents?  Why not go for broke and give her the middle name Millard Fillmore?"

Brittany reached and bopped him on the head.  "Not after the president.  After the place where we all got to know each other," she smiled.  "She wouldn't be here if there was no McKinley High School."

"I love it," Kurt lied.

"It's a pretty name for a pretty girl," Blaine enthused.  "Just like her mother.  Hello, McKinley.   I'm your Papa, and this is your Daddy."  He reached out and stroked a tiny foot.  "I can't wait to get to know you."  His face clouded a moment, but he put on a smile.  Kurt patted his back softly.

Santana exchanged looks with Brittany.  "Well.  That might happen sooner than you think.  We got word that Britt's done with Dancing With the Stars for this season.  She got eliminated tonight.  It's too bad they didn't say anything about me going into labor on the air!  That might have gotten you some sympathy votes."

Brittany shrugged. "I think my days were numbered.  I heard people were calling up and saying they wanted to vote against Dustin."  

"Anyway ... we don't have much to do until next season.  We thought, once McKinley can travel ... we'd come to New York and Brittany could audition for some shows there, and - - well.  We could all spend some time ... as a family?"

Kurt was overcome ... he squeezed Blaine's arm.  "We'd like that ... very much," he said.  "Thank you- thank you so much."  

In a few minutes, the rest of McKinley's extended family filed in - her Grandpa Burt and Grandma Carol; her Grandma Pam, her Uncle Cooper, and her Grandpa Pierce.  And her big brother, who was more excited than any of them to see his little sister.  Kurt looked around, counting six doting grandparents and four adoring parents, some by blood, some only of the heart, and realized.  He needn't have worried about others loving his children too.  There would always be enough love to go around.


End file.
